


In Which An Old Woman Appears

by OwlAway



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, JONES Diana Wynne - Works
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Gen, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlAway/pseuds/OwlAway
Summary: In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes.Howl, of course, had been born the younger of two. That held no real significance, other than that he always felt like he had a shadow looming over him.





	1. In Which An Old Woman Appears

In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes.

Howl, of course, had been born the younger of two. That held no real significance, other than that he always felt like he had a shadow looming over him.

He’d been rather enjoying himself, lately. The weather was fine and bright, the women of Market Chipping had been relaxed and affectionate ever since the Mayday celebrations, and he’d found a rather interesting new girl to pursue.

The difficult ones were always the most fun, and Mrs Fairfax had practically given him a key to her home.

So when he opened the door to his castle and smelled bacon, at first it simply seemed welcoming. A homely smell. He was never greeted with proper cooking.

Oh. That would be because Michael couldn’t cook on Calcifer.

_“… And hold still because I want to break the eggs.”_

He stepped in, determined not to be surprised.

“Oh, hello Howl.” Michael said helplessly, his eyes wide and a little defeated.

It _looked_ as though an old woman in a grey dress was breaking eggs into a frying pan over the hearth, and it looked like Calcifer was letting her.

Howl gently took the guitar and laid it against the wall, and looked up to see that yes, it certainly did seem as though an old woman was looking back at him from the fireplace. Her expression was an odd one, he decided. Most old women eyed him with shrewd suspicion, and this one didn’t seem at all suspicious.

Scared, though, in an odd, familiar sort of way. Had he met her before? He didn’t have a good memory for old women.

Ah well, scared was good enough.

“Who on earth are you?” Asked Howl lightly. “Where have I seen you before?” 

“I am a total stranger." The old woman lied firmly, and she certainly was lying. Nothing about her seemed quite right, but that was probably because she was in his castle.

“She says her name’s Sophie." Michael whined. “She came last night.” Curiouser and curiouser, as Carroll would say. But her name wasn’t exactly the most pressing point right now.

After some short conversation over breakfast, it grew clear that Howl didn’t exactly need to be suspicious- she had some magic about her but didn’t seem in the habit of using it or even acknowledging it, which meant she was most likely some lonely old woman who had been left destitute as war grew closer and taxes rose.

No one came into the castle unless they were desperate. Even the Aunts didn’t move past the fireplace, no matter how keen their fury. It was also interesting that she seemed to have come from the waste.

Something tickled the back of his mind, and he resolutely ignored it.

The call at Kingsbury was a welcome distraction, especially once the purse was in his hands.

Lettie wouldn’t be able to resist him in a new outfit. Perhaps a nice bright scarlet…

.

A couple of days later he walked in and she’d not only cleaned, but whitewashed the walls and ceilings. How irritating- it would mean moving house in the future would require actual thought rather than simply reusing his old seals. “What’s happened in here? It seems much lighter.”

No need to let them now he was keeping track of Sophie’s cleaning. He was simply keeping an eye out for when she would venture into his own room.

Calcifer kept eyeing him speculatively, which although not entirely unusual was nevertheless unsettling. If he tried to ask Calcifer anything about the new tenant the fire demon would simply skirt around the question, and Howl didn’t really care enough to pursue the matter.

He was far too preoccupied with a certain young Miss Hatter to pay it much thought at all.

Except for the fact that his room was clearly next, and she was a shrewd old bat… She would likely wait until he was out of the way.

Also he sent a double walking out of the door the next morning, and waited. It didn’t take long, she was far too settled in his castle. She shuffled up the stairs with her head down in exertion, which served her right taking the stairs as though she were but a lass of 18.

That was another oddity about this Sophie. She would start to move quickly, then complain and slow down. Almost as if she kept forgetting how frightfully old she was.

“No you don’t." he said quite pleasantly. “I want it dirty, thank you.” 

Sophie gaped at him, and he fought to keep his face disinterested and pleasant. That was a good face - nice and shocked. “Where did you come from? I saw you go out.” 

“I meant you to." said Howl. “You’d done your worst with Calcifer and poor Michael. It stood to reason you’d descend on me today. And whatever Calcifer told you, I am a wizard, you know. Didn’t you think I could do magic?”

It was almost as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Everyone knows you’re a wizard, young man." she said severely, regaining some composure and lifting her pointy nose with a sniff. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that your castle is the dirtiest place I’ve ever been in.”

Her eyes narrowed as she peered around him, through the open door. Howl swung his sleeve in front of her face. “Uh-uh. Don’t be nosy.” 

“I’m not being nosy!” Sophie protested, pointlessly. “That room—!” 

“Yes, you are nosy. You’re a dreadfully nosy, horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman. Control yourself. You’re victimising us all.” 

“But it’s a pigsty." cried old Sophie. “I can’t help what I am!” 

“Yes you can." said Howl. “And I like my room the way it is. You must admit I have a right to live in a pigsty if I want. Now go downstairs and think of something else to do. Please. I hate quarrelling with people.” It was dreadfully tiring, even as the back of his neck prickled and he swallowed a smirk.

She scattered off down the stairs, but Howl knew better than to believe she’d truly given up. She banged about downstairs and he chased her out into the yard.

“Not here either." he said. “You are a terror, aren’t you? Leave this yard alone. I know just where everything is in it, and I won’t be able to find the things I need for my transport spells if you tidy them up.” 

“Tidying up is what I’m here for!” she shouted at Howl. 

“Then you must think of a new meaning for your life." He was fighting to keep his temper in check now, which was altogether rather new. He’d not been this frustrated in a long time. “Now trot along indoors, you overactive old thing, and find something else to play with before I get angry. I hate getting angry.” 

“Of course you hate getting angry!” she retorted, her horrid old face wrinkling and flapping about in agitation. “You don’t like anything unpleasant, do you? You’re a slitherer-outer, that’s what you are! You slither away from anything you don’t like!”

That was really quite enough. Far too close to home. “Well now." he managed. “Now we both know each other’s faults. Now go back into the house. Go on. Back.” 

He advanced on Sophie, waving her towards the door. She went too slowly, though, and tripped a little. He went to catch her, sending a little spell out to stabilise her skinny ankles and his sleeve caught the edge of a rusty edge of metal tearing messily along the seam. 

Howl swore. “Look what you’ve made me do!” 

“I can mend it." Sophie said. 

“There you go again." he said. “How you must love servitude!” He mended the tear himself, and it seemed to shut her up. She cowered a little, not wanting to show how scared she was and something tickled the back of his mind again. “There." he said. “Understand?”

She scuttled back into the kitchen, to Michael, and Howl sighed to himself, surveying his precious yard.

There was something really very off about Sophie. She looked terribly familiar, but he had wracked his brains trying to place her and she certainly wasn’t a relative of any old girlfriends, nor had she ever been a customer.

Much later, he was sat by Calcifer, watching the way the fire demon flickered and smirked. “What have you done here, old friend?” He ventured, sure Calcifer would avoid answering.

He wasn’t wrong. “I think the old girl could be a bit of use around here.” Calcifer crackled, pulling a log into his lap. “Don’t you think she could be a help?”

Howl closed his eyes, placing two thin fingers against his temples. “Honestly.” 

“Really?” Calcifer snorted.

“Shut up.” Howl was thinking. Rather, he was searching for who it was Sophie reminded him of.


	2. In Which Howl Tries To Lift A Curse

He thought he’d solved the puzzle. He’d been paying her some careful attention even as she kept out of his way over the next few days, and when he paid attention not much slipped past him. 

Even as she scurried off to the fireplace when he went out into the yard, and sorted through Michael’s room when he was in the kitchen, and stayed put in her cubby hole if he wandered through the castle too restlessly for her to keep pace, he was paying attention well enough.

He was right, he was sure of it. But did Calcifer know?

He experimented a little. He set off some small revealing spells first, but they bounced right off her. He tried to draw some seals into her nasty grey shawl but even she she put it on there wasn’t much activity. The air would fizzle around her a bit and he thought he would see a bit of colour come into her face but it would just sag down into old-lady grey again.

Grey, grey, grey. How ghastly.

It didn’t quite make sense. These little attempts to lift Sophie’s curse began to take up more of his time, but he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Howl watched Sophie from the shadows that evening, she was trying (poorly) to sing along to Sosban Fach without seeming to realise it was a different language.

_“Saucepan, fish! Up hilly on the dish!”_

Not really even close.

He tried again, with a quiet incantation, but the curse stayed stubbornly in place.

Perhaps it would help if he had an idea of who she’d been. He suspected that the curse had been placed sometime after Mayday, but that would only line up if she really was the little grey mouse he’d scared so thoroughly (if quite by accident) that afternoon, which would be quite the coincidence. 

He was really getting fairly cross now, and he didn’t like it. He headed tiredly downstairs. “Happy in your work?” Howl bit out as he slumped down on the bench with Michael.

“I need more to do." Sophie said, seeming to have forgotten that she was meant to be hiding from him.

“My old suit needs mending, if you have to feel busy." said Howl. He needed more to do too, the old hag was far too prominent in his thoughts.

So he spent more time with Michael, making spells for the customers and working on the king’s project.

It wasn’t until many days later that he realised he’d forgotten something rather important. Lettie hadn’t fallen in love with him yet.

“Fool.” He muttered, carefully applying cream to the skin beneath his eyes. “Hopefully absence has made the heart grow fonder.” Or at least a little bit fond.

He headed over to Mrs Fairfax’s house, all ready to play at being ’Sylvester Oak’ again.

“Oh.” Lettie sighed, becomingly as he approached the gate. “I thought you’d finally given up.”

“Fear not, dearest, most beautiful Lettie - the spell you cast on me is firmly in place.” He smiled through long blond lashes. Howl’s silver and blue suit twinkled beautifully in the sunlight, and he bowed romantically.

Lettie held her dog tighter to her side, narrowing her lovely eyes with a smile. “I didn’t realise you dyed your hair.”

Howl nearly dropped the guitar. He’d been too distracted recently! How had he not noticed his hair was growing out?

Valiantly, he fought to raise a calm smile for his lady fair. “Darling, you wound me. I know it seems unlikely but my beauty is totally natural.” Not that he’d even placed much stock in the idea of ‘natural’… luckily his attitude towards ‘honesty’ was equally as dismissive.

Lettie said little else, but she wouldn’t stop smirking at him all day, even when he produced the most lovely necklace for her from within his pocket. It hadn’t been bought with money, per se, but he had acquired it from a shop he’d sold spells to in Kingsbury so it didn’t count as stealing… just tax. To himself.

In fact, even as he handed her the necklace, she rolled her eyes. “I keep trying to tell you, I’m not interested in anything more than training.” She huffed. “Besides, I’m in lo- interested in someone else.” 

His mood soured further. Lettie kept eyeing his hairline most distractingly and he resolved to tint his roots the moment he got home. 

“What do you mean someone else?” Impossible. He’d certainly not seen anyone in all of Ingary quite as dashing as he, and certainly not near Mrs Fairfax’s dowdy little home.

“I mean not you.” Lettie said, arching a lovely dark eyebrow in an all-too familiar way (though he wasn’t sure he’d seen it on her) “Besides, I have more important things to think about than romance…” She almost continued, but instead looked off to one side, blinking quickly.

Howl paid that no attention to that though, he was busy trying to figure out who Lettie could possibly prefer over the great Wizard Howl. It was clearly only because of his hair, he decided. And he could remedy that reasonably quickly.

As he departed, he was so caught up in his anguish that he didn’t catch Lettie ask Mrs Fairfax if she had any new letters, nor Mrs Fairfax’s subdued response. “Yes my dear, but not from Sophie.”

.

The next morning, he was eyeing his faintly pink hair suspiciously in the mirror when he spotted the state his romantic emotions had left the blue suit in. That meant he only had his newly mended scarlet and grey suit left until he was able to raise the funds to buy a new one.

It was a real shame the other inhabitants of the castle insisted on eating so much food.

Begrudgingly, he did admit that Sophie had done a very nice job indeed on the suit. It seemed to sparkle a little at the seams, and the embroidery was just a little brighter. He put it on carefully and smiled in satisfaction at his reflection.

He looked really rather lovely if he did say so himself. Even his hair looked rather pretty. What was it Sophie had called it? Very nice. If he remembered correctly (which he always did) and she may have been right.

He emerged from the bathroom and nearly tripped right over Sophie scurrying past. “Sophie!” He beamed, holding his arms out to invite her to gaze upon his beauty. “I think my hair looks rather good this colour.”

“Do you indeed.” Grumbled Sophie.

She apparently was still annoyed about the slime. He tried again, walking her down the stairs to the kitchen. “It goes with this suit. You have quite a touch with your needle, don’t you?” No response. Couldn’t the woman just take a compliment? Maybe she really was just old. No young woman would have been so cruel. “You’ve given the suit more style somehow.” 

“Huh!” said Sophie, and held her stick a little tighter.

Howl frowned at the back of her head, and glanced over to Calcifer in question. He was no help though, and so Howl helped Sophie to her seat and made his way to the door. “Aches and pains troubling you?” he said. “Or has something annoyed you?” 

“Annoyed?” said Sophie. “Why should I be annoyed? Someone only filled the castle with rotten aspic, and deafened everyone in Porthaven, and scared Calcifer to a cinder, and broke a few hundred hearts. Why should that annoy me?”

Oh, well that was simple enough. Come to think of it, even Michael seemed to be less tolerant of his romantic ways since the slime incident. The boy had done little more than glare at Howl ever since he’d mentioned Lettie.

Howl laughed. “I apologise." He cheerfully told Sophie he’s be at the Palace, and left instructions for Michael, and resolved to help her rheumatism on his return. As he headed out for the day though, he didn’t head for the Palace at all, but rather for Mrs Pentstemmon’s house.

Although she tended to keep misdirection spells on the surrounding streets, he knew them well enough to get through. On his arrival, his old teacher eyed him carefully, warily, as she often did these days.

“Howl, it’s been a while.”

“Mrs Pentstemmon.” He bowed with a flourish, and saw her eyeing his suit in particular. “Do you like it?” He couldn’t help asking. “I wasn’t sure but it does have a certain flourish to it, does it not?”

“It does have that.” She replied dourly. “Why are you here?”

“I have a question for you.” He sat himself across from her, lounging, without an invitation. “What sort of curse might turn a young girl into an old crone?”

She sipped her tea, unimpressed. “A fairly simple one, really. For the Witch of the Waste. Why? Did she catch up with one of your girls?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Howl smiled charmingly, without much impact. “No one I knew beforehand, but I have a cleaning lady who simply reeks of the Witch’s curse, but I can’t seem to be able to move it.”

Mrs Pentstemmon rearranged her velvet shawl, intrigued despite herself. “Did you try the Rocclam seal?” She started.

“Naturally.”

“But with sage, not lavender?”

“Who do you think I am?” He gasped, affronted. “That was one time- the sage smell does linger so…”

“Did you cast the Havers incantation?”

“I did.”

“What about the Rothes variation?”

“I can tell you now, my dear teacher, that I have tried everything I could find and you are my very last resort.” He sniffed, “I have gone through all of my books, and I have experimented with new variations but whatever I try just seems to bounce right off.” He fluttered a hand to mimic something flying away in disgust.

Mrs Pentstemmon said nothing for a very long time, and Howl pouted and sighed in dejection as he waited, but he didn’t leave.

At length, Mrs Pentstemmon put down her empty teacup and laced her fingers together, humming quietly. “You’ve tried-“

“Everything!” Howl seethed. “I even borrowed some of Calcifer’s power.” He steadfastly ignored his teacher’s twitch at the usage of his fire demon’s name being used so flippantly. “So I’m here for a theory, not a lesson.”

“I can’t very well help you without looking at the curse myself.” Mrs Pentstemmon muttered. “I doubt the Witch would be using unheard of magic. She’s strong but hardly clever enough to be creating something so entirely new. It’s far more likely you’ve not been paying attention.”

And Howl decided he would’t argue with her on that point, as he was perhaps a little bit inclined to agree.

“Speaking of paying attention.” Mrs Pentstemmon went on. “The king is pleased with your wagon spell.”

“Maybe he’ll let me rest a while then.” Howl complained.

“You may be getting a more permanent position offered if you’re not careful.”

Well wasn’t that fantastic.

.

At least when he returned home to the castle, he was greeted with a big fat cream cake. Howl seemed to have interrupted something between Sophie and Michael, but paid it no mind as the teenager chattered away about Cesari’s cheerfully.

“I’ve heard Cesari’s is better than any of the cake shops in Kingsbury. Stupid of me never to have been in the place. And is that a pie I see on the bench?” Ignoring Michael’s slightly perturbed expression, he went over to look. “Pie in a bed of raw onions. Human skull looking put-upon.” He picked up the skull and spotted a sad looking onion ring in the eye socket. Removing it with a tap, he smiled. “I see Sophie has been busy again. Couldn’t you have restrained her, my friend?” 

The skull chattered its teeth at him. Well that was new. He put it down quickly and wiped his hands on his tunic. Remembering he was meant to be feigning total abject misery, he sighed dramatically. 

“Is something the matter?” Michael asked. Bless that boy. 

“There is." said Howl. “I shall have to find someone to blacken my name to the King.” 

“Was there something wrong with the wagon spell?” Michael asked anxiously- he had, after all, helped Howl put the spell together. 

“No. It worked perfectly. That’s the trouble." Howl said, restlessly twiddling the dislodged onion ring on one finger. “The King’s trying to pin me down to do something else now. Calcifer, if we’re not very careful, he’s going to appoint me Royal Magician.” Calcifer did not answer. Howl roved back to the fireside and realised Calcifer was asleep. “Wake him up, Michael." he said. “I need to consult him.”

Despite his and Michael’s efforts, Calcifer simply complained and fought to stay asleep. Howl was trying to ignore the slightly panicky feeling in his gut when Sophie piped up.

“I think it was the scarecrow.”

Howl swivelled round on his knees and levelled his glass-marble eyes at her. “What have you done now?” He went on staring while Sophie explained. “A scarecrow?” he said. “Calcifer agreed to speed up the castle because of a scarecrow? Dear Sophie, do please tell me how you bully a fire demon into being that obliging. I’d dearly love to know!” 

“I didn’t bully him." said Sophie, blinking innocently. “It gave me a turn and he was sorry for me.” 

“It gave her a turn and Calcifer was sorry for her." Howl repeated to no one in particular. “My good Sophie, Calcifer is never sorry for anyone. Anyway, I hope you enjoy raw onions and cold pie for your supper, because you’ve almost put Calcifer out.” 

“There’s the cake." Michael said, trying to make peace, and Howl had to admit it helped a little. It also helped that there was an explanation for Calcifer’s state, even if it was slightly barmy.

In a roundabout way that night, he managed to persuade Sophie to help him blacken his name, and rather congratulated himself at how neatly his plan was pulling together.

He didn’t dwell on how easily Sophie had seemingly given in, or on how much he was looking forward to Mrs Pentstemmon having a good look at her. Maybe Mrs Pentstemmon would be able to find the key to shedding this stupid curse, and he wouldn’t need to keep worrying about his stubborn old cleaning lady anymore.

She was quite quiet for the rest of dinner, and he did his best to ignore it.


	3. In Which There Really Is A Scarecrow

The shadows were beginning to creep in on the castle as Calcifer dozed away. It felt altogether more ominous than he was used to, and Howl felt very cold somehow. There was a gap in his chest that grew when Calcifer was struck low like this.

Sophie had retreated to her mouse-hole, and had grunted and creaked awfully as she climbed in. He'd thought about offering to help, but she had hurt his feelings by practically ignoring him this evening, so bully for her.

"Michael." He called softly, as he made his way upstairs. Sophie had dozed off now (or had seemed to, he was never quite sure whether she was pretending) and he wanted to get this out of the way.

"What is it Howl?" Michael popped his head out of his room warily, eyes suspicious. Howl beckoned him over and they moved to the far corner of the landing, where no snooping noses would overhear.

"I'll be out all day tomorrow." Howl said. "Make sure you don't let Sophie out of your sight, you understand?"

"Why?"

Howl floundered for a direct answer but couldn't quite place it. She'd seemed reasonably compliant today and it unsettled him somewhat. Whatever this business was with the scarecrow it seemed to have affected her rather more than one would expect. "Because I said so, Michael." He stared the boy down until Michael slumped back off to his room defeated.

It wouldn't do to have anything happen to Sophie now that she was proving useful, Howl told himself, and headed off to his room to study transformative curses some more.

.

He barely slept that night. A combination of Sophie’s curse and Calcifer’s exhaustion meant when he did eventually give in and head to bed, he was tossing and turning most uncomfortably. As soon as he drifted off he’d wake again, plagued by the visions of young girls turning into crones and back again, or the Witch of the Waste looming over the castle.

Sophie and Michael at the mercy of the Witch.

He woke again, sweating, and finally just got up. He’d gone to sleep in his suit, and hung it up as he showered, throwing cleaning, perfume and drying spells at it until it sparkled anew.

It really was rather fine, he thought. Mrs Pentstemmon had barely been ale to keep her eyes off it either, and she truly was a woman of taste!

The water was barely lukewarm, but he resisted asking Calcifer to heat it up. Partly to preserve Calcifer’s energy, and partly because he was slightly afraid to check on Calcifer in case he hadn’t improved.

Luckily, he had. Howl knelt beside the demon with an open smile. “I thought she’d done for you, you old ball of gas.”

The fire demon smirked at him knowingly, but shrugged. “I was only tired." Calcifer said. “There was some kind of drag on the castle. I’d never taken it that fast before.” 

Was that so indeed. How interesting. Perhaps there was something about this ‘scarecrow’ business he should have a look into. “Well, don’t let her make you do it again." said Howl thoughtfully. He stood up, noticing that his sleeves were covered in Calcifer’s ash and hastily shedding what he could with a small flap of his arms.

He noticed he had a small audience at the bench, and tried to make his efforts more graceful. “Make a start on that spell today, Michael. And if anyone comes from the King, I’m away on urgent private business until tomorrow. I’m going to see Lettie, but you needn’t tell him that.” 

He picked up his guitar and opened the door with the knob green-down, on to the wide, cloudy hills. 

He was immediately face to face with an awful, rotted turnip that looked vaguely face-like. Sophie gave a faint squawk of terror behind him and Howl felt something terribly strong pushing him backwards. He braced himself against the doorway and pushed back as hard as he could.

“There really is a scarecrow!” He heard Calcifer and Michael shout, slightly unnecessarily. 

“Oh, is there? Do tell!” Howl panted. He got one foot up against the door frame and heaved. The scarecrow flew lumpishly away backwards, to land with a light rustle in the heather some yards off. 

Tenacious as anything, it sprang up and came hopping towards Howl again. He set down the guitar and jumped down to meet it.

“No you don’t, my friend." he said with one hand out. “Go back where you came from.” He walked forwards slowly, still with his out, sending out magic to help counter the Scarecrow’s mysterious strength. 

The scarecrow retreated a little, hopping slowly and warily backwards. When Howl stopped, the scarecrow stopped too, with its one leg planted in the heather and its ragged arms tilting this way and that like a person sparring for an opening. 

“So you won’t go?” Howl said. And the turnip head slowly moved from side to side. No. “I’m afraid you’ll have to." Howl said, chest almost beating as he breathed heavily with the excursion. “You scare Sophie, and there’s no knowing what she’ll do when she’s scared. Come to think of it, you scare me too.” 

He shouted out a banishment, and with a crack of sudden thunder, the scarecrow went soaring away. 

Howl returned to the castle, feeling awfully damp and mopped at his face with his hand, though taking care not to dampen his suit. “I take back my hard words, Sophie." he heaved. “That thing was alarming.” Recalling Calfier’s complaints of a dragong sensation when he was moving the castle. “It may have been dragging the castle back all yesterday. It had some of the strongest magic I’ve met. Whatever was it – all that was left of the last person you cleaned for?” He bent over, gasping for breath and heard Sophie make a strange strangled noise.

Looking up, her eyes seemed to have glazed over a little, even as she pretended to laugh. She was holding one hand rather oddly over her breast and he gelt his stomach flip.

He jumped indoors across his guitar, took hold of her elbow, and sat her in the chair. “Take it easy now!” 

He reached out to Calcifer and the demon lent him some energy- he had spent too much fending off the scarecrow. Howl could feel Sophie’s heart, fluttery and stuttering against her ribs in a horrid, irregular manner.

In, out, pump, pump, pump, pump. He focused on the rhythm of her heartbeat, easing it back into a functional place and urging it into behaving. It didn’t take long with Calcifer’s help, really, and all four valves began to work together again.

He felt a little dizzy.

Howl looked at Calcifer, shrugged, and turned to Michael. Sophie’s chest was still heaving a little, although her organs seemed to be working properly, and he made sure Michael paid attention to his instructions about making Sophie keep quiet for the rest of the day. 

Then he picked up the guitar and left at last. He was late, after all.

Casting a speed spell to hurry along to Upper Folding, Howl was determined to give Lettie one last go. She’d been terribly uncooperative, which would normally make her very interesting but Howl was growing more tired by the day, and found himself thoroughly unmoved by the thought of pretty Lettie Hatter.

He gripped the guitar tightly. What on earth was he thinking? Bored of Lettie? Already? She hadn’t even slightly warmed to him yet! This was the best part.

Maybe he was becoming too cold and unromantic. Maybe his heart was too far gone and he’d lost interest in love entirely.

The thought made him feel rather desolate.

He arrived to a typically warm welcome from Mrs Fairfax, who directed him out to the orchard where lovely Lettie was harvesting honey from the bees. He bowed low, showing off his new hair, and even cold, callous Lettie seemed to warm up to him a little.

She kept looking between his suit and his hair, and Howl felt rather pleased that he’d worn the scarlet and grey suit today.

“Do you like the suit?” He asked, taking her gloved hand and giving it a delicate kiss. “It’s rather wonderful isn’t it?”

Lettie smiled a little dazedly, and Howl felt invigoured anew. “It is quite lovely.”

“You know…” Howl mused thoughtfully, looking at her face for a long moment. “I know someone called Sophie who looks a little like you.”

Distracted, and seeming rather caught out by the dazzling suit, Lettie smiled. “That’s my sister.”

Howl paused. Lettie seemed to pause too, and they simply looked at each other for a long moment. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Howl said slowly.

“Well, how did you meet her?” Lettie asked, smiling demurely. The change in her attitude was strange indeed.

Howl turned on a dazzling grin. “Oh, she’s much plainer than you, my dear.” He took her hand. “She has simply taken up a post as my cleaning lady. She seemed to be on the run from something. Trouble at home, perhaps?” Lettie’s face creased in annoyance and Howl waved a hand dismissively. “But let’s not discuss your sister for now, dearest Lettie.”

Lettie seemed swayed. She let him lead her over to the bench by the beehives in the rose garden.

Then he felt it.

That nosy old woman! What on earth was she doing here, of all places? Lettie hadn’t noticed, she was arranging her skirts and smiling like a perfect ingenue. That certainly would agitate poor Sophie, what fun! Howl leaned in, making sure he looked as perfect and tragically handsome as possible.

“You really must visit someday soon, my dearest.” He purred. He cast some mildly magical feelers out and felt Sophie’s heart give a little lurch. Well, wasn’t that interesting? With her so close, he wondered how he’d ever missed the fact she was cursed. She was accompanied by Michael, of course. The boy had been true to his word in that respect, at least!

Then again, it probably wasn’t fair to blame poor Michael. Howl doubted he’d have been able to keep Sophie inside against her wishes either. She was so awfully pig-headed.

He felt them fluster about and move away from the orchard, and stood abruptly. “Well, my darling. I really should be off.”

“What?” Lettie blinked, a little horrified, and caught his sleeve, holding on tight. “No! You have to tell me what business you have with Sophie!” She cried, and from behind Howl, Mrs Fairfax and the dog appeared.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Mrs Fairfax soothed. “It wasn’t you sister. It was your great-aunt but she had to leave.” She smiled in what she probably thought was a reassuring manner. “Fanny never mentioned an aunt. Is she on your father’s side?”

Howl managed to extricate himself and smoothed his hair down, eyebrows furrowed. “Great-aunt?” He asked, puzzled, at the same time as Lettie. “I don’t have a great-aunt.” Lettie finished, sniffing.

They looked at each other, all three of them, quite nonplussed.

The dog whined, pitifully.

Howl felt something snap right into place. “Oh, I see.” He sighed. “I think we should all go inside for some tea. We have some rather interesting matters to discuss.”


	4. In Which Howl Spends A Day In Kingsbury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some interesting conversations with Lettie and Calcifer. Howl spends a day in Kingsbury, and it seems that Sophie and Michael have been getting into trouble together.

Howl made his way back to the castle a fair bit slower than the outward journey. He was thinking, which did tend to slow one down somewhat.

So it seemed that Sophie was Lettie’s sister, which certainly explained why she had followed him to Upper Folding, but didn’t quite explain why she was in his castle rather than with Mrs Fairfax. Not that Mrs Fairfax would be much use at lifting the curse, but Sophie didn’t know that.

He didn’t listen to the irritating little voice reminding him how little help he’d been at lifting the curse, because it was beside the point.

Howl arrived at the castle and paused at the door. He wasn’t sure what he should say or do. He wasn’t inclined towards honesty, but something was making him rather nervous about the idea of facing Sophie and not telling her about his discussion with Lettie and Mrs Fairfax.

He needn’t have worried, however, for when he opened the door the castle was surprisingly empty.

“Sophie has shredded your blue and silver suit. I thought you should know.” Calcifer grumbled.

“Calcifer, where is everyone?” He asked.

“Don’t ask me.” Calcifer muttered. “They were thick as thieves over on the bench looking at one of your spells and then headed out with the seven league boots again.”

At least Michael was occupied with the spell he’d left for him, but it shouldn’t have been so hard that he needed help.

Howl eyed him suspiciously. “Are you annoyed, my friend?” He asked. “That’s not like you.”

Calcifer grumbled low in the fireplace, and Howl sat in the armchair - Sophie’s armchair - he thought to himself.

“I’ve been feeling more irritable lately.” Calcifer admitted. “Something’s changing.”

“Is that so?” Howl pretended not to pay attention, inspecting his neat cuticles in the firelight. “Perhaps Lettie is warming my heart.”

Calcifer huffed, but said nothing.

The two eyed each other for a long, quiet moment.

“I had a very interesting conversation with Lettie today…” Howl started. “Her sister appears to have gone missing.”

“Is that so?” Calcifer flickered yellow and blue. “Are you going to help look for her? That’s not like you.”

“Perhaps.” Howl hummed, watching for a reaction. “She went missing shortly after Mayday, so it’s not been long.”

“What’s her name?”

“Something you want to tell me, old friend?” Howl leaned forwards, giving Calcifer his undivided attention. Calcifer squirmed.

“If you don’t know already then I shan’t tell you.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since she walked into the castle… Who do you think I am?” Calcifer sniffed. “You’d have known straight away too if you weren’t so self obsessed.”

“You’ve let me down Calcifer.” Howl said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re meant to be my eyes around here.”

Calcifer puffed up indignantly. “I shouldn’t have to tell you something so obvious, Howl.” He fumed, and puffs of blue smoke rolled off him, up the chimney. “Did the penny only just drop for you? You’re ridiculous.”

“No.” Howl snapped. “I’ve known for days.” He crossed his legs, stretching them out in front of him and resting his heels on the hearth. “It seems that she’s Lettie’s older sister.”

“It seems that Michael is seeing another relative, also called Lettie.” Calcifer mused. “Sophie said both were her great nieces but she must be some other relation.”

Michael hadn’t told him he was courting! Howl pretended not to care.

“How nice.”

Calcifer cackled, knowing Howl far too well for his own liking. “You can’t blame him, surely?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Howl asked.

“I’m sure that he was worried if he told you, you’d have gone to see what she was like and probably tried to snatch her away.” Calcifer said. Howl arched an eyebrow at him, but the fire demon went on. “He’s not going to risk it.”

“Well, I don’t have eyes for anyone other than my Lettie anyway.”

“No?” Calcifer smiled almost benevolently, or at least it would have looked benevolent if he didn’t have all those teeth. “I have your heart, after all.”

Howl told himself he had no idea what Calcifer was getting at.

“I’m going to bed.” He said snippily, standing up and stretching. “Lots of hot water please tomorrow morning, Calcifer. I went easy on you today.” 

“And you probably want to be as beautiful as possible for your lady love tomorrow.”

“Really now, Calcifer. That’s quite enough from you.”

.

Howl came out of the bathroom the next morning while Sophie was frying breakfast on Calcifer and sat gracefully in the chair. “Dear Sophie." he crooned, ignoring Calcifer. “Always busy. You were hard at work yesterday, weren’t you, in spite of my advice? Why have you made a jigsaw puzzle of my best suit? Just a friendly inquiry, you know.” 

Sophie didn’t meet his eyes. “You jellied it the other day." She said. “I’m making it over.” 

“I can do that." He smiled, watching her. “I thought I showed you. I can also make you a pair of seven-league boots of your own if you give me your size. Something practical in brown calf, perhaps. It’s amazing the way one can take a step ten and half miles long and still always land in a cowpat.” She didn’t flinch.

“It may have been a bull-pat." said Sophie. “I daresay you found mud from the marshes on them too. A person my age needs a lot of exercise.” 

“You were even busier than I realised, then." said Howl. “Because when I happened to tear my eyes from Lettie’s lovely face for an instant yesterday, I could have sworn I saw your long nose poking round the corner of the house.” He let the smile play at the corners of his mouth, waiting for her reaction as she realised she was thoroughly caught.

Sophie finally met his eyes and he felt the back of his neck prickle slightly.

“Mrs Fairfax is a family friend." said Sophie, seeming very pious and snooty indeed. “How was I to know you would be there too?” 

Ah ha. “You have an instinct, Sophie, that’s how." said Howl. “Nothing is safe from you. If I were to court a girl who lived on an iceberg in the middle of an ocean, sooner or later – probably sooner – I’d look up to see you swooping overhead on a broomstick. In fact, by now I’d be disappointed in you if I didn’t see you.” Which was the truth, he supposed.

“Are you off to the iceberg today?” Sophie retorted. Very witty. “From the look on Lettie’s face yesterday, there’s nothing that need keep you there!”

“You wrong me, Sophie." Howl feigned deep hurt at the very idea. Michael and Calcifer really had done such a good job, blackening his name - even in his own home! “Long years will pass before I leave Lettie, and in fact I’m off to see the King today. Satisfied, Mrs Nose?” He huffed.

Howl turned the doorknob red-down and stepped out into Kingsbury. In truth, he was avoiding the King as much as possible, but he wanted to talk to Mrs Pentstemmon again. Now that he had a clear idea of who Sophie really was, maybe Mrs Pentstemmon would have a clearer idea of why the Witch had cursed her so strongly.

“Sophie Hatter. A milliner?” Mrs Pentstemmon thought carefully. “The name rings a bell, I think. Where was she from again?”

“Market Chipping.” Howl supplied, as he pored through the books Mrs Pentstemmon had set out for him. Some of them were unfamiliar, but there wasn’t anything inside them he hadn’t already covered in his efforts to release Sophie from the curse. “It’s just on the edge of the waste, relatively near Mrs Fairfax in Upper Folding.”

“Yes, I’m sure I’ve heard the name. I just wish I knew where.” Mrs Pentstemmon was reading through her letters and correspondences. Old students checking in, giving news of their efforts and some rather more formal updates from the Palace, beseeching her to help advise the King as war loomed ever more sinisterly over Ingary.

Howl wasn’t sure how she’d have heard the name. He certainly hadn’t.

“Wizard Howl.” Called one of Mrs Pentstemmon’s page boys. “There’s a royal soldier for you at the door.”

Howl met Mrs Pentstemmon’s gaze over his pile of books. “Drat.” He sighed. “I may have to visit the King after all.”

.

When Howl finally shouldered the door open with his arms full of parcels, Michael was not even looking busy. He was rolling around on the stool laughing at something Sophie had said, and her face was alight with mirth. 

Howl backed into the door to shut it and leaned there in a tragic attitude. “Look at you all!” he said. “Ruin stares me in the face. I slave all day for you all. And not one of you, even Calcifer, can spare time to say hello!” 

Michael sprang up guiltily and Calcifer said, “I never do say hello.” 

“Is something wrong?” asked Sophie, she seemed to have gotten over most of her annoyance, and was even meeting his eyes with a slight, gentle smile.

“That’s better." said Howl, feeling quite peeved. “Some of you are pretending to notice me at last. How kind of you to ask, Sophie. Yes, something is wrong. The King has asked me officially to find his brother for him – with a strong hint that destroying the Witch of the Waste would come in handy too – and you all sit there and laugh!” 

Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. “I’ll make some hot buttered toast." she said. 

“Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy?” Howl asked. “Make toast! No, don’t get up. I’ve trudged here laden with stuff for you, so the least you can do is show polite interest. Here.” He tipped a shower of parcels into Sophie’s lap and handed another to Michael. 

Sophie slowly unwrapped his offerings and to his immense satisfaction, she stroked the silk of the dress, awed. 

Michael unwrapped a handsome new velvet suit. “You must have spent every bit that was in the silk purse!” he said ungratefully. “I don’t need this. You’re the one who needs a new suit.”

Howl noticed what Sophie had left of his beautiful blue suit and held it up with one boot. “How selfless I am." he said. “But I can’t send you and Sophie to blacken my name to the King in rags. The King would think I didn’t look after my old mother properly.” He sent Sophie a dazzling smile.

“Well, Sophie? Are the boots the right size?” 

Sophie looked up from her awed stroking. “Are you being kind." she said, “or cowardly? Thank you very much and no I won’t.”

“What ingratitude!” Howl exclaimed, spreading out both arms. Was she still angry about Lettie? He’d show her. “Let’s have green slime again! After which I shall be forced to move the castle a thousand miles away and never see my lovely Lettie again!” Fully knowing he was simply pushing Sophie’s buttons, he couldn’t resist the little jab.

Michael looked at Sophie imploringly, clearly thinking of his own lovely Lettie. Sophie and Michael were clearly becoming quite dear to each other, and if the castle moved, she’d be further away from her relatives too.

Sophie glowered. “You haven’t asked me to do anything yet." she said. “You’ve just said I’m going to.”

Howl smiled. “And you are going to, aren’t you?” 

“All right. When do you want me to go?” Sophie said. She really was a puzzle! Even as she protested it was becoming easier and easier to have her help him. Perhaps she was really quite soft hearted under her callous exterior.

“Tomorrow afternoon, Michael can go as your footman. The King’s expecting you.” He sat on the stool “I want you to do a very delicate job." Howl explained, and went on to tell Sophie exactly what he wanted her to say, how she should say it, and led her from there into an introduction to Mrs Pentstemmon. 

Michael kept trying to interrupt, most frustratingly, and Howl had to keep waving him away. Eventually, he realised Sophie had long since lost track of what he was trying to say and sighed.

“Right, Michael. Your turn now. What is it?” 

Michael waved the shiny grey paper and explained in an unhappy rush how impossible the spell seemed to do. Howl seemed faintly astonished to hear this, but he took the paper, saying, “Now, where was your problem?” and spread it out. 

He stared at it. It couldn’t be! “I tried it as a puzzle and I tried doing it just as it says." Michael explained behind him. “But Sophie and I couldn’t catch the falling star—” 

“Great gods above!” Howl exclaimed. He started to laugh, a little stunned and dazed. “But, Michael, this isn’t the spell I left you. Where did you find it?” 

“On the bench, in that heap of things Sophie piled round the skull." said Michael. “It was the only new spell there, so I thought—” 

“Sophie strikes again." Howl muttered, heading to the bench and sorting through the papers there. It was very strange, he thought, that he couldn’t find the spell he’d left for Michael either. He tapped the skull thoughtfully on its brown, shiny dome. “Your doing, friend? I have a notion you come from there. I’m sure the guitar does.”

A flash of connection.

“Er – Sophie dear—” He ground out, turning back to look at the cleaning lady who was sat quite primly, if looking a little guilty.

“What?” said Sophie. 

“Busy old fool, unruly Sophie." said Howl. “Am I right in thinking that you turned my doorknob black-side-down and stuck your long nose out through it?” 

“Just my finger." Sophie said with dignity. 

“But you opened the door." said Howl, a bit dismayed. “And the thing Michael thinks is a spell must have got through. Didn’t it occur to either of you that it doesn’t look like spells usually do?” For one thing, it was a photocopy.

“Spells often look peculiar." Michael said. “What is it really?” He leaned across the bench to have another look, but Howl could feel his pulse quickening.

“Decide what this is about. Write a second verse! Oh, lord!” he said and ran for the stairs. “I’ll show you." he called he went to find the book.

He’d not looked at it in a long time, but he’d kept it safe. He could hear Sophie and Michael talking quietly to each other downstairs. He unlocked the drawer at the top of his desk and opened it, rummaging through a variety of papers until he found - nothing.

Where was it?

Where had he left it? It had been right here.

Did Michael say he had tried to catch a shooting star?

“I haven’t got that book after all." He headed downstairs, perturbed. “Michael, did I hear you say you went out and tried to catch a shooting star?”

“Yes, but it was scared stiff and fell in a pool and drowned." Michael said. 

“Thank goodness for that!” said Howl, relieved. Michael hadn’t had the chance to speak with one then.

“It was very sad." Sophie said, and Howl almost screamed.

“Sad, was it?” said Howl, more upset than ever. “It was your idea, was it? It would be! I can just see you hopping about the marshes, encouraging him! Let me tell you, that was the most stupid thing he’s ever done in his life. He’d have been more than sad if he’d chanced to catch the thing! And you—” 

Calcifer flickered sleepily up the chimney. “What’s all this fuss about?” he demanded. “You caught one yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I-!”

Time seemed to freeze, and Howl stared at Calcifer, stupefied.

Collecting himself, he turned away from Calcifer. “Michael, promise me you’ll never try to catch one again.” 

“I promise." Michael said, appearing quite sincere. “What is that writing, if it’s not a spell?” 

Howl looked at the grey paper in his hand. “It’s called ‘Song’ – and that’s what it is, I suppose. But it’s not all here and I can’t remember the rest of it.” 

He stood and began to think of the curse the witch had been trying to catch him with. So far he'd managed to avoid it taking hold but it certainly felt like a continuation of his original bargain with Calcifer, and there were more conditions.

He hadn’t thought about the Witch’s curse on him in… well, weeks maybe. He’d been too wrapped up in other business. 

“I think the next verse was important." he mused. “I’d better take it back and see—” 

He went to the door and turned the knob black-down. Then he paused. He looked round at Michael and Sophie, who were naturally enough both staring at the knob. 

“All right." he said. “I know Sophie will squirm through somehow if I leave her behind, and that’s not fair to Michael. Come along, both of you, so I’ve got you where I can keep my eye on you.” 

He opened the door and stepped through, into the rainy evening.


	5. In Which Howl Fails To Avoid A Curse

Whenever he was in Wales, he’d get this weird, aching feeling in his chest. It was most likely due to Calcifer being in Ingary, and him being in a different world entirely, but it could also have been something else. Especially when it rained like this.

“When you’ve quite finished nosing." Howl called. Sophie and Michael were both staring in disbelief. “We need to be dressed in keeping with this place.” He transformed all of their clothes into something closer to what Megan would expect, but nothing too flashy.

Michael lifted his legs in disbelief, seemingly quite offended by his own tight jeans. “I can hardly bend my knee." he said. “You’ll get used to it." said Howl. “Come on, Sophie.”

He led them into the house, and Megan looked up at him, a little annoyed, but before she could say much more than his name Mari came running in greeting. He chatted away to her - she’d gotten second place in her Welsh language spelling competition! What a clever girl she was.

“This is my niece, Mari, and my sister, Megan Parry.” Howl introduced Sophie and Michael. “Megan, this is Michael Fisher and Sophie – er—” he almost slipped and said it, but Sophie chipped in.

“Hatter." 

“Quiet now, Mari!” Megan chided. “Howell, are you staying long?” 

“Just dropped in for a moment." Howl said, lowering Mari to the floor. 

“Gareth isn’t in yet.” Megan said meaningfully, and Howl nearly rolled his eyes.

“What a pity! We can’t stay." Howl said, smiling a warm, false smile. “I just thought I’d introduce you to my friends here. And I want to ask you something that may sound silly. Has Neil by any chance lost a piece of English homework lately?” 

“Funny you should say that!” Megan exclaimed. “Looking everywhere for it, he was, last Thursday!” She began rattling off about how good having a strict teacher was going to be for poor Neil, and Howl almost stopped her when she finally said “… and all he can find is a funny old piece of writing—” 

“Ah." said Howl. “What did he do with that writing?” 

“I told him to hand it in to this Miss Angorian of his." Megan said. “Might show her he tried for once.” 

“And did he?” Howl asked. 

“I don’t know. Better ask Neil. He’s up in the front bedroom with that machine of his." said Megan. “But you won’t get a word of sense out of him.” 

“Come on." Howl said to Michael and Sophie, leading them upstairs and rather enjoying the expressions on both of their faces. Upstairs, Neil was playing with a friend of his that Howl hadn’t met before.

Once the matter with Neil was resolved, and Howl had a lead to be going on with (really, it seemed far too much of a coincidence that the boys had been given this exact poem right as he was dealing with the Witch’s curse, alternate world or no) Howl went back to his sister.

“Do you have my book on John Donne?” Howl asked Megan. “Are my books still in the cupboard or did you take them out to the garage?” He grimaced slightly at the thought of his books and clothes being subject to the damp.

Megan made a bit of a show of huffing about. “Well what did you expect me to do then? Just hold onto your things as the children grow up, with no way to contact you and no forwarding address…”

“Megan…”

“So I sold your records to Mr Jones’ wee girl down the lanes, and Mrs Hattersley wanted the books about botany…”

“All my books?” Howl asked.

Megan crossed her arms. “Yes. And don’t give me that face. I’ve told you before-”

“What do you mean, you’ve sold all my books?” He cried. Things were just going from bad to worse. “I needed one of them particularly. They weren’t yours to sell.” 

“Don’t keep interrupting!” Megan answered in a low, ferocious voice. “Listen now! I’ve told you before I’m not a storehouse for your property. You’re a disgrace to me and Gareth, lounging about in those clothes instead of buying a proper suit and looking respectable for once, taking up with riffraff and layabouts, bringing them to this house! Are you trying to bring me down to your level? You had all that education, and you don’t even get a decent job, you just hang around, wasting all that time at college, wasting all those sacrifices other people made, wasting your money, “…never doing an honest day’s work, never getting a job I could be proud of, bringing shame on me and Gareth, coming here and spoiling Mari rotten…”

Howl had been backed right up to the bottom of the stairs, and his pride was bruised. Why did he think it would be a good idea to bring Sophie and Michael to Wales? To show off just how exotic he was?

That had blown up in his face, hadn’t it? He looked a proper fool now. He was a poor little Valleys boy who had squandered his talents and become nothing of note.

That’s how Megan saw him, and now it was out for all to see.

_Thump, thump, thump_

“Come, Howl." Sophie said grandly, behind him. “We really must be on our way. While we stand here, money is ticking away and your servants are probably selling the gold plates. So nice to meet you." she said to Megan as she arrived at the foot of the stairs, “but we must rush. Howl is such a busy man.”

And she was pushing at his back toward the door. Howl felt rather as though he was being pushed on by a force of nature, and it didn’t matter that to Megan’s ears, what Sophie had just said probably sounded like the rantings of an absolute lunatic, because what mattered was the utter disdain in Sophie’s voice as she addressed his sister.

To Sophie, the small-mindedness of Megan was the most pitiable thing, and Megan’s self-righteousness had clearly cemented his sister in Sophie’s mind as a particularly disagreeable person.

As they reached the door, Howl managed to shout backwards “Is my old car still in the shed, or have you sold that too?”

He couldn’t see Megan’s face, partly because his expressions weren’t behaving right now and he didn’t want to look back. “You’ve got the only set of keys.” And the door slammed behind them.

Howl shook himself off; he had this Miss Angorian’s address and a strong lead. Wherever his copy of John Donne had gone, he could easily get another, and maybe figure out why Neil’s homework had come into his castle.

He led his companions down the cul-de-sac to the line of garages. He did indeed have the only key to the car, and for that he was relieved. It wasn’t much, just a little Volkswagen rusting in the wheel arches and with tears in the upholstery, but he’d had it for years and knew how to maintain it. 

“I suppose the fierce English teacher is bound to have a copy of that book.” He opened up the garage and grinned. “There she is.”

“Who?” Michael asked, confused.

Howl looked back at the odd pair behind him. They looked wary, baffled and, in Sophie’s case, rather defiant.

“Time to get in.” He said with a smile, and opened the door, letting Michael clamber inside first then holding out a hand for Sophie. “It’s perfectly safe.” He reassured her as she eyed both the car and him with hard suspicion that he found quite endearing, in a very Sophie-is-old-and-a-bit-ugly sort of way, of course.

She carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, accepted his hand and got into the front seat.

The drive was thoroughly entertaining, at least it was for Howl. Michael kept squawking in anxious terror behind them and Sophie was gipping onto the torn upholstery, letting little gasps out as Howl pressed the brakes a little too hard, or turned the corner a touch too fast.

All accidental, not at all deliberately.

At least Sophie’s heart was robust enough to handle it, which made the game of agitating her much more fun.

They arrived at Mrs Phillip’s Tea Shop, above which the mysterious Miss Angorian was supposed to live. The fact she had the spell in her hands, the one he’d left for Michael was very interesting indeed. When she answered the door, Howl felt the air thrum around him with energy.

“I’ll take a small guess that you may be Howell Jenkins." She purred and Howl had to commend her - she was exactly the sort of woman that c Ould almost have been designed to capture him. 

Which, of course, she was.

“And you must be Miss Angorian." said Howl, snapping a smile into place. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I made a stupid mistake last week and carried off my nephew’s English homework instead of a rather important paper I had with me. I gather Neil gave it to you as proof that he wasn’t shirking.” 

Let the charm offensive begin.

“He did." said Miss Angorian. “You’d better come in and collect it.” 

They climbed up a flight of stairs to Miss Angorian’s tiny, severe living room. Miss Angorian said considerately to Sophie, “Won’t you sit down?”

Poor Sophie sat down, looking a little worse for wear. “How is it you come to know who I am?” Howl asked beguilingly. 

“You seem to have to caused a lot of gossip in this town." Miss Angorian said, busy sorting through papers on the table. 

“And what have those people who gossip told you?” Howl asked. He leaned languishingly on the end of the table and tried to catch Miss Angorian’s eye. 

“That you disappear and turn up rather unpredictably, for one thing." Miss Angorian said. 

“And what else?” Howl watched Miss Angorian’s movements intently, admiring her. He didn’t suppose that they were vulnerable here, right now. But he wasn’t sure what to expect exactly. 

“Many other things, few of them to your credit." Miss Angorian went on, looking at Michael and then at Sophie pointedly. She held a yellowish wavy-edged paper out to Howl. “Here it is." she said severely. “Do you know what it is?” 

“Of course." said Howl. 

“Then please tell me." 

Howl took the paper. He tried to take Miss Angorian’s hand with it but she kept herself away (oh, so tempting! Very clever) and so he passed the paper to Michael. “You tell her." he said.

Michael’s blushing face lit up as soon as he looked at it. “It’s the spell! Oh, I can do this one – it’s enlargement, isn’t it?” 

“That’s what I thought." Miss Angorian said rather accusingly. “I’d like to know what you were doing with such a thing.” 

It occurred to Howl, that this was a chance to show off a little.

“Miss Angorian." said Howl, “if you have heard all those things about me, you must know I wrote my doctoral thesis on charms and spells. You look as if you suspect me of working black magic! I assure you, I never worked any kind of spell in my life.” 

Sophie snorted, rather unbecomingly.

“With my hand on my heart." Howl added, giving Sophie an irritated frown, “this spell is for study purposes only. It’s very old and rare. That’s why I wanted it back.” 

“Well, you have it back." Miss Angorian said briskly. “Before you go, would you mind giving me my homework sheet in return? Photocopies cost money.”

“This poem now." he said. “It’s been bothering me. Silly, really! – but I can’t remember the rest of it. By Walter Raleigh, isn’t it?” 

Miss Angorian gave him a withering look. “Certainly not. It’s by John Donne and it’s very well known indeed. I have the book with it in here, if you want to refresh your memory.” 

“Please." said Howl, and his eyes followed Miss Angorian as she went to her wall of books. “Miss Angorian." he said pleadingly. “Would you consider coming out for some supper with me tonight?” 

Miss Angorian turned round with a large book in her hand, looking more severe than ever. “I would not." she said. “Mr Jenkins, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but you must have heard that I still consider myself engaged to Ben Sullivan—”

“Never heard of him."

“My fiancé." said Miss Angorian. “He disappeared some years back. Now, do you wish me to read this poem out to you?” 

“Do that." Howl said, quite unrepentant. “You have such a lovely voice.” 

“Then I’ll start with the second verse." Miss Angorian said, “since you have the first verse there in your hand.” She read very well, not only melodiously, but in a way which made the second verse fit the rhythm of the first, which in Sophie’s opinion it did not do at all: 

_“If thou beest born to strange sights,_

_Things invisible to see,_

_Ride ten thousand days and nights_

_Till age snow white hairs on thee._

_Thou, when thou returnest, wilt tell me_

_All strange wonders that befell thee,_

_And swear_

_No where_

_Lives a woman true, and fair._

_If thou—”_

Howl felt his face drain of colour as the familiar rumbles of the curse seemed to solidify around him like concrete.“Thank you." he said. “Stop there. I won’t trouble you for the rest.”

The time constraints were potentially his saving grace. How long was ten thousand days? There were plenty of conditions he should be safe from, but his best hope was to resist his own role in the curse.

“Even the good woman is untrue in the last verse, isn’t she? I remember now. Silly of me. John Donne, of course.” 

Miss Angorian lowered the book and stared at him. He forced a smile. 

“We must be going now. Sure you won’t change your mind about supper?” He asked, out of habit as much as any real wish to eat dinner with a pretty woman.

“I will not." said Miss Angorian. “Are you quite well, Mr Jenkins?” 

“In the pink." Howl said, and he hustled Michael and Sophie away down the stairs and into the car.

If the witch’s influence had reached Wales then he really did need to reassess his approach. It wouldn’t do to have her find Calcifer, so he had to find out a way to lay a trap. One that had absolutely no risk of himself getting hurt or facing the Witch head-on in any way.

“What’s the matter?” Michael asked as they drove home. Howl pretended not to hear, but Michael asked again as he was locking the garage. 

“Oh, nothing." Howl said airily, leading the way back to the yellow house called Rivendell. “The Witch of the Waste has caught up with me with her curse, that’s all. Bound to happen sooner or later.” 

He thought about the timings again. “Ten thousand." He mused. “That brings it to about Midsummer Day.” 

“What is brought to Midsummer Day?” asked Sophie. 

“The time I’ll be ten thousand days old." Howl said. “And that, Mrs Nose." he said, swinging into the garden, “is the day I shall have to go back to the Witch of the Waste.” 

He could feel Sophie’s eyes boring into his back, but steadfastly ignored it. “If I keep clear of mermaids, and don’t touch a mandrake root—” 

Michael called out, “Do we have to go back into that house?” and Sophie called, “What will the Witch do?” 

“I shudder to think." Howl said. “You don’t have to go back in, Michael.” He opened the wavy-glass door to the castle. 

Howl released the spells on their clothes and approached Calcifer, feeling decidedly miserable. He gave Calcifer a log. “She caught up, old blue-face." he said. 

“I know." said Calcifer. “I felt it take.”

He’d been too self-assured, he realised. As the start of the curse had been cast so long ago, and he’d evaded it for so long he’d relaxed his guard and spent to much time on other, more stabilising diversions.

He watched Sophie potter into the kitchen, preparing some toast. 

“Howl.” Calcifer said lowly, and a little warningly. 

He smiled wanly at the fire demon. “What?”

Calcifer said nothing, but sat low in his bed of logs and watched Howl intently. Michael was hovering at the large armchair, looking pale and uncertain.

“Howl.” Michael started. “How did you find Ingary?” He blushed and tried again. “I mean- it’s not that I’m not glad you’re here but… how many worlds are out there? Are they all so different?” He was all cherry red and puffed up, as though he’d swallowed a ball of hot gas.

“I don’t know, Michael.” Howl said gently, and turned to face him fully. “I’ve only ever known two and I don’t feel like I know either. I wouldn’t recommend it.” He stood up swiftly, feeling exposed. Michael evidently shared his discomfort, as he made some vague excuses and headed upstairs with his enlargement spell gripped tightly in hand.

Howl made his way to Sophie, who was buttering three slices with determined vigour. There was a rigidity to her again, and he watched her humped, skinny back quiver with energy.

Although it was a feeble attempt, he tried a small ‘reveal’ spell, and then another ‘healing’ incantation. Her back seemed to straighten a little, but when she turned to look at him appraisingly her craggy, lined face was no different. If anything, it was even more severe.

“Is something wrong, Sophie?” He asked, charmingly. She scowled.

“I’m going to bed. It does no good to a woman of my age to be gallivanting around different worlds and riding about in horseless carriages… it’s enough to send me to the grave.”

Howl smiled thinly. “Oh, Sophie. I’m sure you’ll outlive us all.”

She looked about, evidently realising Michael had already made himself scarce, and her scowl deepened. “Don’t tease. It’s unkind.” She huffed, and left the toast untouched, hobbling off to her space under the stairs and disappearing into the gloom.

_._

_Go and catch a falling star,_

_Get with child a mandrake root,_

_Tell me where all past years are,_

_Or who cleft the devil’s foot,_

_Teach me to hear mermaids singing,_

_Or to keep off envy’s stinging,_

_And find_

_What wind_

_Serves to advance an honest mind._

 

_If thou be’st born to strange sights,_

_Things invisible to see,_

_Ride ten thousand days and nights,_

_Till age snow white hairs on thee,_

_Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me,_

_All strange wonders that befell thee,_

_And swear,_

_No where_

_Lives a woman true and fair._

 

_If thou find’st one, let me know,_

_Such a pilgrimage were sweet;_

_Yet do not, I would not go,_

_Though at next door we might meet,_

_Though she were true, when you met her,_

_And last, till you write your letter,_

_Yet she_

_Will be_

_False, ere I come, to two, or three._

 

Howl found himself wondering whether the curse had influence over other people too.


	6. In Which Howl takes Sophie to Mrs Pentstemmon

Today was the day. Howl really couldn’t afford to spend more time on Sophie’s curse and Mrs Pentstemmon was far more likely to be of assistance than he at this point.

“You look wonderfully rich and stately!” Michael admired Sophie’s new clothes.

“She does me credit,” said Howl, “apart from that awful old stick.” 

“Some people,” said Sophie, “are thoroughly self-centred. This stick goes with me. I need it for moral support.” 

Howl looked at the ceiling, but he did not argue. As they left for Kingsbury, Sophie turned to look behind them, evidently curious about the exterior of the castle in Kingsbury. 

“Before you ask, it’s really just a disused stable.” Howl smirked knowingly. This way.” He directed Sophie and Howl through the streets of Kingsbury towards Mrs Pentstemmon’s. 

The sun beat down gloriously, and Howl found himself picking up the pace. He happily bantered with Sophie about the merits of the name Pendragon over the likes of Hatter and Jenkins.

Mrs Pentstemmon was the picture of grace and finery as she received them in her drawing room. 

“Mrs Pentstemmon, allow me to present my old mother,” Howl said, waving his hand at Sophie. 

“Charmed. Delighted,” said Mrs Pentstemmon, and they shook hands in a most ladylike manner. “Forgive my not standing up, Mrs Pendragon,” Mrs Pentstemmon said. “My health is not good. It forced me to retire from teaching three years ago. Pray sit down, both of you.” 

Sophie and Howl sat down across from Mrs Pentstemmon. 

“I am eighty-six,” Mrs Pentstemmon announced. “How old are you, my dear Mrs Pendragon?” 

“Ninety,” Sophie said, and Howl raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t very practiced at lying, clearly.

“So old?” Mrs Pentstemmon asked. “How lucky you are to move so nimbly still.” 

“Oh, yes, she’s so wonderfully nimble,” Howl agreed, enthusiastically. “that sometimes there’s no stopping her.” He flashed a grin at Sophie, but it fell flat.

Mrs Pentstemmon gave him a stern, no-nonsense look. “I am talking to your mother,” she said. “I daresay she is as proud of you as I am. We are two old ladies who both had a hand in forming you. You are, one might say, our joint creation.” 

“Don’t you think I did any of me myself, then?” Howl asked. “Put in just a few touches of my own?” 

“A few, and those not altogether to my liking,” Mrs Pentstemmon replied. “But you will not wish to sit here and hear yourself being discussed. You will go down and sit on the terrace, taking your page boy with you, where Hunch will bring you both a cool drink. Go along.” 

Howl scowled. This wasn’t expected at all, but perhaps Mrs Pentstemmon had a plan forming.

Michael was very oddly sullen as the headed out into the heat of the day.

When they got outside, Michael was fiddling with his sleeves nervously, and kept glancing furtively at Howl. Despite Howl’s best attempts to ignore the boy, eventually Michael managed to catch his eye.

“Howl.” Michael said, very seriously indeed, “I have something important to tell you…” He swallowed. “It’s about Sophie.”

Howl arched an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Michael swallowed nervously but continued on. 

“I’ve been speaking to Lettie- _my_ Lettie, down at Cesari’s, and…” He huffed, eyeing Howl suspiciously. “The thing is.” He said at length. “I have something very important to tell you but- but I’m not sure if you’re to be trusted with this information.”

Was that fair? Probably.

“I like Sophie a lot.” Michael began to ramble slightly, looking pale and pained. “And I want to help her, and I know that talking to you about it is the best way to help her, but I’m also concerned because I don’t want things to change too much.”

Howl looked skywards. “It’s such a beautiful day today. I wonder what my Lettie’s up to… Thinking of me, I hope.”

“Sophie’s been cursed, I think, maybe by the Witch of the Waste.” Michael rushed through.

“Oh? What makes you think that?” Howl said blithely, looking back to Michael.

Michael said, not meeting Howl’s eyes, “My Lettie’s her sister.” He thumbed his nose awkwardly and Howl could see he was kicking the dust of the pavement. The busyness of Kingsbury always overwhelmed Michael a little, and the deep flush under his collar was spreading upwards. “Which means she’s not really ninety.”

“I suppose that would be difficult, logistically.”

“Yes, well.” Michael shuffled. “If she’s cursed, we can reverse it.”

“Have you tried yourself yet?” Howl asked.

Michael shook his head. “I had a look at some of your spells but it’s too advanced for me. I wouldn’t know where to start. I wondered- well.”

Howl eyed him carefully, but didn’t say anything.

“I wondered if maybe you knew and the spell you set me.. I mean it turned out not to be a spell, I know, but I wondered if you were giving me a spell to release Sophie’s curse…”

“I wasn’t.” Howl said eventually, thoughtfully. “But I have been trying to release it.” Michael’s head shot up to look at Howl, and he sighed. “I can’t. But hopefully a very different Sophie comes down those stairs once Mrs Pentstemmon’s finished.”

.

“Howl.” Michael nudged Howl in a worried way as Sophie came slowly down the stairs behind the page boy. Mrs Pentstemmon had failed.

Howl was at a loss. He’d really thought this would work, or, at least, he didn’t have any other ideas. Sophie looked about as tired and drained as he felt. They may as well head back to the castle; Howl was feeling dejected and he could sense Michael deflate next to him as Sophie pottered down the last few steps.

“You seem a bit ragged,” he said. “I think we’d better skip seeing the King. I’ll go and blacken my own name when I make your excuses. I can say my wicked ways have made you ill. That could be true, from the look of you.” 

Sophie shook her head. “After Mrs Pentstemmon,” she said, “the King of Ingary will seem just like an ordinary person.”

Howl didn’t think she looked as though she quite believed herself, but with a way glance at Michael, who placed himself at Sophie’s elbow to help her, he led the way to the palace. 

Once Sophie was inside, Michael turned to Howl, his face set in a determined frown.

“So what’s our next step?” He asked.

“We should go back to Mrs Pentstemmon, most likely.” Howl mused. “If she wasn’t able to release Sophie’s curse maybe she has a clearer idea of what will. Beyond that, I have to say I’m fairly stumped.”

.

The stained glass window of Mrs Pentstemmon’s room cast pretty blues and greens over Howl’s hair, and he fancied it rather brightened his eyes too, though of course no one present truly appreciated the effect.

“It’s a powerful curse.” Mrs Pentstemmon sipped her tea thoughtfully, and Howl noticed that Michael was perched at the very edge of the sofa Mrs Pentstemmon had asked them to sit on. He was clearly uncomfortable in such opulence, and Howl kept down a smirk at his expression.

“What can we do?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” Mrs Pentstemmon continued. “You already dispelled the top level of Witch’s Curse, something stronger is keeping the curse in place, and I suspect Sophie herself is part of it.”

“S _ophie?_ ” Howl and Michael said in unison.

Howl stood up, arms crossed. “What could Sophie be doing?” It seemed bizarre, to him, that Sophie could be responsible for the ongoing facade. Worse, it wasn’t a facade, she had the body and health problems of an elderly woman and in spite of his work to keep her hale and hearty, her life expectancy would be drastically shortened.

Mrs Pentstemmon blinked. “Well you must have noticed?” She blinked as Michael and Howl exchanged nonplussed glances. “Sophie is an incredibly powerful witch herself, and such a unique strain of magic, too. Quite remarkable.”

Howl’s mind seemed to be fizzing with the new information. If Sophie was a witch, and responsible for her own curse, what were the implications? Why would she prefer to live as she did, hiding from her own family?

She had ample opportunity to go to Lettie, with Mrs Fairfax, and ask for help, and she had plenty of opportunity to go to her other relative at Cesari’s, but she chose to stay in Howl’s castle.

It was likely, Howl reasoned, that a layer of the curse also prevented her from speaking about it. It was a common enough condition, and would usually only be released once the entirety of the curse was lifted. If Sophie was maintaining it, consciously or not, she was likely maintaining the secrecy clause too.

“Sophie’s really a witch? How did you know?” Michael asked, leaning on his knees. His velvet page boy costume was getting rubbed all sorts of ways, Howl noticed with a grimace, and was looking rather rough.

“She talks life into things.” Mrs Pentstemmon smiled coyly, leaning forward to speak to Michael in an almost girlishly excited whisper. “And she can cast quite the subtle charms on previously inanimate objects. I thought initially that the suit was Howl’s doing but it _seems_ that she…”

“Why on earth would Sophie have cursed herself?” Howl snapped, ignoring the way his old teacher glanced at him disapprovingly. Howl began pacing in front of the large oak bookcase, running a hand through his hair and feeling altogether rather hot in the face. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, well, a woman’s secrets do tend to be a little lost on you my dear.” Mrs Pentstemmon said darkly. Howl felt himself pink.

“A woman’s secrets?” Howl spluttered. “What’s that supposed to mean? Sophie isn’t a _woman_.”

“No, she’s a girl.” Mrs Pentstemmon replied snippily. “And you’re what- nearly thirty? The way you carry on it’s no surprise she’s trying to hide from you.”

Michael was sat rather far back in the sofa cushions now, looking incredibly uncomfortable indeed. Howl himself was livid, the implication was clear enough, and he stared at Mrs Pentsemmon, struggling to find the words to- well, to speak.

Mrs Pentstemmon stared back, all hardness and frosty displeasure. She’d been wanting to say something along these lines for a while, clearly, and Howl had been too absent for her to dig her barbs in properly until now.

“So it all comes back to this.” Howl sighed heavily. “I come to you for help and you can’t resist having a _go at me_.” Mrs Pentstemmon raised her eyes to the ceiling in a way that on any other person would look like an eye roll.

Howl waited, but Mrs Pentstemmon simply looked away, lips pursed.

The crone! The - the witch! She couldn’t help but criticise!

“Come on Michael.” Howl said, icily. He swept out of the room, vaguely registering Michael’s muttered, flustered apologies on his behalf. Howl practically flew down the Kingsbury streets to the castle door. He was just so _angry_. How dare she?

How dare she speak like that? To him, of all people?

It was almost worse than Megan. It _was_ worse, because Mrs Pentstemmon knew how clever he was, and how talented, and she was disappointed in him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Howl. Of course, this will be the last time he sees his old teacher. Things are about to pick up a bit!


	7. In Which Howl Grieves

Howl and Michael returned to the Palace, only to be informed that old Mrs Pendragon had already left so, irritated at the girl’s impatience, Howl led Michael back to the castle. As they swept through the cobbled streets Michael kept trying to speak, but Howl resolutely kept his eyes fixed ahead.

He felt curiously sick to his stomach. It was a very, very deep feeling of dread, such as he’d not felt for many years. Howl wasn’t sure what was causing it, but he thought he really ought to consult with Calcifer. He wasn’t sure if it signalled some sort of threat to the castle, and Calcifer was always far to exposed to danger, even beneath the many precautions, cloaks and spells the castle sat behind.

They arrived at the Kingsbury door, and all seemed well. The little wooden door was intact, and when Howl opened it, it revealed the castle as should be expected. Calcifer sat low in the fireplace, drawing shapes in the ash beneath the grate to amuse himself.

“Calcifer, Sophie, we’re back.” Michael called, stepping around Howl in the doorway and making his way inside. Calcifer perked up a little, leaning out of the fireplace to watch Michael make his way to the table.

Michael sighed in deep satisfaction as he threw his lovely new jacket over the bench, and popped open the buttons of his waistcoat. He pushed his belly out with a quiet grin to himself, testing the staunch, starched shirt.

“Where is Sophie?” Howl asked, still in the doorway.

“Last I saw, she went out with the two of you to impress people.” Calcifer cackled, eyes swinging back to look at Howl. “Did you lose her?”

It seemed rather as though they had.

Michael groaned. “We didn’t see her on the way back. Do you think she got lost?”

“Maybe.” Howl frowned. Maybe she was suffering some senility he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t think the roads to the castle were that complicated, although considering that Market Chipping consisted of roughly four roads perhaps she’d been left confused by the alleys and streets of the city.

He wondered, absently, what defined a city in the land of Ingary. Back home a city was defined as a large town with a Cathedral, but he wasn’t entirely sure Ingary had religion the same way his world did.

Perhaps it was the presence of a palace.

Michael was heading back out the door. Howl blocked his exit with a firm “Where are you going?”

“To find Sophie.” Michael replied. “Something feels wrong.”

So Michael felt it too. Howl sighed. “You wait here in case she comes back, _I’ll_ go and see if I can find her.” Michael opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll find her faster than you, and if she has gotten properly lost I’ll be able to locate her with a spell. How is your practice coming along, anyway?”

Michael gave him a dark look, but retreated dutifully to the table.

Howl cast a warning glance at Calcifer, who seemed to be feeling the dull sense of something being _off_ as well, but was staying unusually quiet, and left.

He wasn’t sure why, but he headed straight for Mrs Pentstemmon’s house. He didn’t particularly want to see her, but his feet led the way. It was unlikely Sophie would have found her way to the old teacher by accident, if she was lost, but then again if she was a secret witch she may have found her feet carrying her there anyway.

As he approached, he felt the knot in his belly tighten, though nothing looked out of place. He knocked on the door and went unanswered.

Perhaps she was angry with him, but he’d never known Mrs Pentstemmon to miss the chance to gain the upper hand in a confrontation- hiding behind a locked door when he’d been here not an hour before seemed most unlike her.

He tried the door, and it swung open.

Unlocked door, then.

Quietly, he slipped in and left the door open behind him. If there was any trouble at all, he’d be straight out of the door. He wasn’t going to do anything brave or heroic here, he just wanted to see if Mrs Pentstemmon was ready to apologise for her tone earlier.

He walked down the hallway, listening to the silence.

He was only still here because it was quiet, which meant there was clearly no threat.

Because terrible things were always loud and obvious.

He caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and grimaced. He stood stock still, not wanting to look but unable to ignore it.

To his left was the open door to the drawing room, where he could see a slumped heap of clothing next to Mrs Pentstemmon’s armchair. The lovely blue velvet one.

Instead of turning, he dug into his pocket for his pouch of ash from Calcifer’s grate. He was running low, and Sophie seemed determined to prevent it gathering up properly, but this was perhaps an important enough use.

He blew it from his hand and whispered - he dared not speak aloud - the incantation, and the ash spread thin, but dull white-grey to the floor.

There were no signs of life in the house.

Howl fled.

.

He returned to the castle and headed straight to Calcifer. “Mrs Pentstemmon’s dead.” He said, breathlessly, and knelt beside the fireplace. “She’s been murdered.”

“What?” Michael hovered by the armchair, alarmed. “We were just there! How did she-“

“The Witch found her.” Calcifer hissed. “I felt something happen but I wasn’t sure what. She found a way through to misdirection spells.”

“Are we safe?” Michael asked, and Calcifer flickered a little brighter.

“No.”

Howl felt dizzy, and sick again. His empty chest felt weighted and heavy, though there was nothing to feel, and the little lump beneath Calcifer seemed to throb sympathetically.

They heard the sound of a carriage pulling up outside. Michael turned to face the door, wide eyed and breathing quickly. Howl remained kneeling beside Calcifer, empty and numb.

“It’s not her.” Calcifer reassured Michael, but they both flinched when there was a heavy, authoritative knock on the door.

Howl didn’t move, so Michael edged slowly to the door and peeked through the window. Warily, he turned the doorknob and opened the Kingsbury door. 

“I have here a Royal Decree, declaring Wizard Pendragon the new Royal Wizard.” A voice boomed, cheerfully proud. Howl barely registered the words, but Calcifer huffed, and Michael groaned. “Excuse me?” The voice sounded huffy and affronted, and Michael seemed to recover his manners somewhat.

“I’m sorry, we just- we’ve had a - a loss in the family. Thank you for delivering this. I shall pass it on to Wizard Pendragon upon his return.”

The door closed, and Michael approached Howl, handing him the scroll Howl really should have expected.

“What do we do?” Michael asked, sounding lost.

Howl opened the scroll, it was as expected, and he ran a hand through his hair, miserable.

“Howl?” Michael asked, a little more gently. “What are we going to do?”

“Sophie’s back.” Calcifer announced, and Michael ran to the Kingsbury door.

“Where did you get to?” he said. “I’ve been so worried! And Howl’ terribly upset-“

Sophie grumbled something inaudible, and Howl stood up, following Michael slowly to the door. When Sophie saw the scroll in his hand, she had the decency to look dismayed.

Howl passed her escort a tip and watched the procession pull away. “I make that four horses and ten men just to get rid of one old woman. What did you _do_ to the King?” He turned and headed inside, followed slowly by Sophie and Michael. He saw Michael give Sophie a strange look of camaraderie, guiding her to the armchair by the fire.

“I think the King got sick of me turning up and blackening your name. I went twice.” Sophie sighed, matter-of-fact. Howl leaned against the chimney breast. “Everything went wrong. And I met the Witch on her way from killing Mrs Pentstemmon. What a day!”

Howl listened intently, pretending to read the scroll as Sophie continued with her story.

“The Count of Catterack found me wandering the palace, and it made me quite guilty as he had married Jane Farrier, who is a good foot taller than he is, and it may be partly my fault but he seems happy enough.” Sophie explained. “Although I find him to be quite frustrating. He couldn’t get a thing right and was meant to fetch the two of you to take me home, but apparently you couldn’t be found.”

Howl and Michael had been with Mrs Pentstemmon, of course, and Howl wasn’t about to tell Sophie that. A warning glance to Michael told him to keep quiet too.

“She found me when I left the palace- I couldn’t find the castle, you see.” Sophie began. “I had gotten rather turned around and I was walking down an unfamiliar street when she came at me. I don’t know how I knew it was her as she looked different, but I knew it was her and she knew I was me.” Sophie shuddered, and Howl didn’t blame her.

“She told me Mrs Pentstemmon was dead.” That empty, desolate feeling seemed to widen, as though Howl was completely hollowed out.

Sophie continued to go into further detail about her return to the palace with the Witch, and the Witch’s knowledge of Wales. Howl felt like thereThe Witch was closing in on them, on him, and he felt at once claustrophobic and as though he needed to hide under the bed forever.

“Behold the new Royal Wizard.” Howl said gently. “My name is very black.” He should have known really. He began to laugh. “And what did she do to the Count of Catterack? I should have never let her near the King.”

“I did blacken your name!” Sophie protested.

“I know.” Howl held up a hand. “It was my miscalculation. Now, how am I going to go to poor Mrs Pentstemmon’s funeral without the Witch knowing?” He ignored Sophie’s alarmed squeak and Michael’s horrified expression. “Any ideas, Calcifer?”

Calcifer flickered speculatively. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Michael looked very pale, and a little sick himself. Sophie was just watching Howl quietly.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m planning?” Howl asked, once Michael had gone to bed. Sophie was doing the dishes, with her back to him. He sat down on the bench, resting his elbows on the kitchen table.

Sophie shrugged, not turning around. “Why should I?” She put a dish to one side to dry. “I’m just the cleaning lady. I don’t need to know the details.”

“You think I shouldn’t go to the funeral.”

Sophie vigorously scrubbed at the cast iron frying pan. “She was worried about you.”

“She was disappointed in me.” Howl said quietly.

Sophie paused. “Maybe.” She acquiesced. “But us old women, we’re only disappointed in people if we truly expect the best of them.”

Howl wasn’t sure what to say to that, and he felt rather as though he couldn’t trust himself to speak anyway, so he simply bowed his head and sat in silence as Sophie continued to wash the dishes, not looking back at him, and he cried.


	8. In Which Howl Comes Dangerously Close To Being Honest

Howl checked up on the misdirection spells the next day with a feeling of renewed vigour. They were holding well, but they showed signs of strain. The Witch knew about nearly all of the Castle entrances, even if she couldn’t find them precisely.

“It seems that all but the Porthaven entrance have been uncovered.” He told Calcifer, grabbing a cheese sandwich Sophie had left out for him the previous night. “Tell the others, would you? I’m going out.”

“Out where?” Calcifer protested.

“Out out.”

Calcifer leaned out of the grate as Howl turned the doorknob black side down. “You take me for granted.”

Howl rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. Wales was unsurprisingly grey and wet and he looked down the cul-de-sac with a slightly exaggerated smile. He changed into his old rugby shirt and jeans, and headed back to the house.

“Uncle Howell!” Mari shrieked delightedly, and Howl swung her around as he entered the hallway.

“Morning cariad, how are you?” He smiled indulgently. Megan popped her head out of the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re alone this time then?”

“Oh yes.” Howl nodded, lifting Mari up to his shoulders and stooping to avoid scraping the ceiling and giving her an other mild concussion. Megan was clearly thinking along the same lines, judging by the way her teeth worried at the inside of her cheek, but she said nothing. “Is Gareth around?”

“Gareth has work.” Megan sighed. “Wednesday usually is a workday, which you’d know if you had a job.”

Howl ignored her with a sunny smile. “And Neil’s in school, I take it?”

Megan turned and headed back into the kitchen. “I haven’t got your books, Howell.” She called. “And I have to go to the library.”

“Do you want me to take Mari off your hands then?” Howl asked, following his sister into the kitchen. “I have the morning to myself and it gets a tad dull knocking around by myself.”

Megan stirred her tea with a skeptical frown. “Last time you took the children out Neil got in trouble for stealing.”

“He wasn’t in trouble until you made him return the cassette to the shop.” Howl sighed. “So you’re really the one who got him in trouble.”

Megan scowled. “No hijinks.” She said sternly. “You’ll go to the Wacky Warehouse for an hour while I get work done and that’s it.”

Howl bounced Mari on his shoulders, making her shriek excitedly. “Of course. Whatever you prefer.”

Howl took Mari to the pub.

He was sat in the bar, colouring in the children's menus and eating a light breakfast with her, when he heard his name being called.

“Jenkins!” Jack called. “I thought that was you!” He clapped a huge hand on Howl’s shoulder with a grin. “I’ve not seen you in about a year.”

“Jones.” Howl grinned, as though surprised. “What a grand surprise.”

As Howl chatted away to his old rugby captain, he thought he caught sight of a lovely dark haired woman in the window watching him.

. 

After dropping Mari back off, Howl returned to the castle, but the door struggled to open and he attracted quite the stares as he kicked at his own front door. “Forgot my keys!” He called to a young mother and child who looked rather alarmed. At least the street was mostly empty with the horrible weather getting worse by the second.

As the witnesses cleared the street he took a step back and held out his hand. He felt the blockage, whatever it was, give way and slammed the door open, half-ready to see his friends dead inside the castle.

Instead, he was faced with Sophie looking rather white faced, stood alone in the middle of the room.

The castle looked fairly neat, other than the broken planks of wood and a scattering of nails on the floor. “This is a bit much, Sophie! I do live here.”

Sophie looked at him, and her shock seemed to give way to an odd, sad expression. Howl didn’t really see what she had to be sad about, here in the safe and warm as he went off luring monsters to him, but it bothered him all the same. “Where have you been?” She asked softly.

“Standing in the rain.” He quipped. “None of your business. What were those planks in aid of?”

Sophie was eyeing his suit, which he had recoloured to a much more sombre black/brown in memory of Mrs Pentstemmon, and she was still looking rather forlorn. Michael appeared from the cupboard under the stairs and Howl was glad to know his sense of self preservation was still going strong.

“I did them.” Michael scratched his nose guiltily. “The Witch-“

“You must think I don’t know my own business." Howl snapped. “I have so many misdirection spells out there that most people wouldn’t find us at all. I give even the Witch three days.” He flapped a hand dismissively, and Howl turned to head to Calcifer, ignoring the way the fire demon hid low in the logs. “Calcifer I need a hot drink.”

“Don’t come near me like that!” Calcifer cried, hiding. “You’re wet!”

Sophie was still watching him with those awful, sad eyes. “Sophie.” He said, pleadingly, stepping away from the fireplace, she didn’t move.

“What about Lettie?” She asked, piously.

“I’m soaked through.” Howl sighed. “I should have a hot drink.” She was meant to be his servant, was she not? If she insisted on playing this strange game of pretend.

“And I said, what about Lettie Hatter?” Sophie’s voice rose, and Howl felt his temper rise. Did Sophie not appreciate the work he’d gone to? That Mrs Pentstemmon had gone to?

“Bother you then!” He shook the water off himself and went to get himself the saucepan. “The world is full of hard hearted women, Michael. I can name three without stopping to think.” Sophie, Megan, Mrs Pentstemmon…

“One of them being Miss Angorian?” Sophie accused, and Howl refused to respond. She had as dim a view of him as Mrs Pentstemmon.

Mrs Pentstemmon was wrong about Sophie being a girl. She was just a grumpy, nasty old lady with no empathy or gratefulness in her.

Sophie ignored him after that. She cleaned and watched as Howl studied maps of Ingary with Michael. When she was upstairs, Michael pointed out a street in Market Chipping. “That’s the hat shop they lived in.” He said softly. “It’s terribly sad. Lettie said her mother ”

“I don’t think we need move the Porthaven entrance.” Howl mused loudly as Sophie reappeared. He blew his nose. “But I want the moving castle well away from anywhere it’s been before and the Kingsbury entrance shut down.” He felt a dreadful cold coming on, and Sophie was being no help.

There was a loud knock at the door. Howl and Michael flinched, looking toward the door. After several long moments there was another loud, insistent knock.

Howl’s blood was roaring in his ears. No one made a move to answer the door. Calcifer flickered low in the fireplace, and Sophie remained in one corner, working away on Howl’s old blue and silver suit.

When the knocking seemed to have stopped for good, Michael shuffled closer to Howl. “What about the black-down entrance?” He hissed quietly.

“That stays.” Howl said firmly, blowing his nose into a tissue he conjured from his sleeve. This blasted cold was really beginning to slow him down. By late morning, Howl had firmly decided he would recover faster from the comfort of his own bed. Sophie was being very difficult to deal with, asking about Lettie and Prince Justin, and he was missing the relative peace of her ignoring him.

Once he had settled in bed, Howl heaved a great sign of relief. He wasn’t being badgered by anyone, and both Sophie and Michael now knew well enough to leave his room alone.

Of course, being alone was terribly dull.

“Help me, someone!” He called. “I’m dying from neglect up here!”

The speedy, light footsteps hurrying up the stairs told Howl who had answered his call before Michael burst through the door, looking worried. Howl put on a great show of groaning and feebly attempting to sit upright, which meant Michael helped fluff his pillows and didn’t argue when Howl requested lemon and honey.

Howl had great fun sending Michael up and down the stairs on a variety of requests, though he grew increasingly frustrated with Sophie’s conspicuous absence.

“Michael.” He said eventually, when he finished the bacon sandwich he’d been sure Calcifer wouldn’t let Michael make. “I need these supplies from Market Chipping.” He produced the list of spell ingredients with a flourish. “I’d also like you to get the deed for the hat shop.”

“Sorry?” Michael looked confused. “Why are we buying the hat shop? Normally we just squat in disused barns and alleyways.”

Howl was fishing out his bank book. It had been a while since he’d purchased a shop but as well as the money held in his bank account, he knew Michael had saved a fair amount over the years too.

“You said their mother was selling the shop, so it might be a nice thing to do for the grumpy old fool.” Howl said tiredly. “Besides, it will draw less suspicion if we sell something other than magic for a while. I don’t think the witch would expect me to give up the title of ‘wizard’, even to avoid her.”

“Yes but couldn’t we do that from a barn? You always said we shouldn’t have to spend money on property, that that was the point of having a moving castle.”

Howl sighed dramatically. “I’m too ill to argue with you. Do as you’re told.”

“But the Witch!”

“You’ll be quite safe with the red beard cloak. It has both misdirection and disguise spells on it.”

Michael traipsed sullenly back downstairs, complaining to Sophie loudly. 

Left once again to his own devices, Howl fell into a fitful sleep.

He was plagued by horrible dreams.

He had visions of looking out of his window to see Mari and Megan being whisked away by the Witch, of Miss Angorian finding her way into the castle and taking Calcifer.

The room darkened, and in the corner he could see a flash of copper as someone moved around just out of sight, behind the boxes of luggage and books. He moaned aloud, and a pale, freckled face appeared from the gloom.

It looked bitterly disappointed in him.

“No where, lived a woman true or fair.” She whispered. “If thou find’st one, let me know, Such a pilgrimage were sweet…”

“Leave me alone, Sophie.” He whispered, blowing his nose. It must be Sophie, or at least, he thought it must be Sophie. He only had a vague, hazy recollection of the girl he sometimes thought she was.

She was terrifying, and beautiful in the dark.

“Yet do not, I would not go, Though at next door we might meet”

She seemed to be growing taller, and her green eyes were flashing with hidden lightning. He reached out, but she seemed to lose substance, and was swallowed by a swarm of black spots.

He cried out, and the door opened to reveal old Sophie with her sleeves rolled up. There was lightning in her eyes too.

“I’m dying of boredom.” Howl said hoarsely, hoping she wouldn’t leave him to his nightmares again. “Or maybe just dying.”

Sophie felt his forehead, and her hand felt so pleasant and cool. “You do have a fever.” She sounded really quite concerned, which was nice for a change.

“I’m delirious.” Howl whined. “Spots are crawling before my eyes.”

Sophie snorted at that, giving him a strange smile. “Those are spiders.” She said patiently, sitting herself down on the bed next to him. “Why can’t you cure yourself with a spell?”

“Because there is no cure for a cold.” Howl let his head fall back into the pillows, and stubbornly ignored the vision of young Sophie creeping around behind old Sophie. “Things are going round and round in my head - or maybe my head is going round and round in things. I keep thinking of the terms of the Witch’s curse. I hadn’t realised she could lay me bare like that.”

Sophie was watching him quietly, the back of her hand resting against his arm, sending prickles all along his skin.

“It’s a bad thing to be laid bare.” He said to himself. “Even though the things that are true so far are all my own doing. I keep waiting for the rest to happen.” 

Sophie thought back to the puzzling verse. “What things? Tell me where all the past years are?” 

“Oh, I know that." said Howl. “My own, or anyone else’s. They’re all there, just where they always were. I could go and play bad fairy at my own christening if I wanted. Maybe I did and that’s my trouble. No, there are only three things I’m waiting for: the mermaids, the mandrake root, and the wind to advance an honest mind. And whether I get white hairs, I suppose, only I’m not going to take the spell off to see. There’s only about three weeks left for them to come true in, and the Witch gets me as soon as they do. But the Rugby Club Reunion is Midsummer Eve, so I shall get to that at least. The rest had all happened long ago.” 

“You mean the falling star and never being able to find a woman true and fair?” said Sophie. “I’m not surprised, the way you go on. Mrs Pentstemmon told me you were going to the bad. She was right, wasn’t she?” She really was too sharp for her own good.

“I must go to her funeral if it kills me." Howl said sadly. “Mrs Pentstemmon always thought far too well of me. I blinded her with my charm.” He could feel himself begin to cry, and he supposed it wasn’t the first time he’d cried in front of Sophie, so maybe it didn’t matter too much. 

“I was talking about the way you keep dropping ladies as soon as you’ve made them love you." Sophie stood up, her mind clearly spiralling off in some unpleasant direction. “Why do you do it?” 

Howl pointed a shaky hand up towards the canopy of his bed. “That’s why I love spiders. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again.’ I keep trying." he said sadly. “But I brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago, and I know I shall never be able to love anyone properly now.” He was on the verge of sobbing, and hated himself for it. He was feeling vulnerable and honest, which left him dangerously close to helping the curse further its already tight grip on his soul.

“Now, you mustn’t cry—”Sophie stepped closer to him, leaning out as though to cradle his face. Howl closed his eyes in anticipation, but a pattering of footsteps broke the moment.

A large red setter appeared, and seemed to push Sophie away from him. “What’s this?” Howl mumbled, confused.

“My new dog." Sophie said, pressed against the wall by the door. She caught sight of the window to Wales, and stared.

“Is that the place called Wales?” Sophie asked. Howl laughed and pounded on the covers of his bed, sending plumes of smoke up to the canopy.

“Bother that dog!” he croaked. “I had a bet on with myself that I could keep you from snooping out of the window all the time you were in here!” 

“Did you now?” said Sophie, sounding miffed. The dog was almost certainly pushing her to the door now, and Howl turned away. “So all that song and dance was just a game, was it?” she said. “I might have known!”

“Sometimes.” He said, half into the duvet. “You sound just like Megan.” 

“Sometimes." Sophie answered, shooing the dog out of the room in front of her, “I understand how Megan got the way she is.” And she shut the door on Howl with a loud bang.


	9. In Which Howl Dresses In Black

When he heard Michael’s return, Howl draped the patchwork blanket over himself and padded downstairs. “Well?” He asked, patting the red setter on its head.

“I got everything.” Michael beamed, meeting his eyes. He took a breath and said, clearly attempting nonchalance. “And here’s a real piece of luck, Howl. There’s an empty shop for sale down in Market Chipping. It used to be a hat shop. Do you think we could move the castle there?”

Howl sat on a stool near Sophie, keeping an eye on her. “It depends how much it costs. I’m quite tempted to move the Porthaven entrance there. That won’t be easy because it will mean moving Calcifer.” He turned to explain. “Porthaven is where Calcifer actually _is_.” Sophie showed no signs of listening, and he left her to her sulk. “What do you say, Calcifer?”

“It will take a very careful operation to move me." Calcifer said. He had become several shades paler at the thought. “I think you should leave me where I am.” 

The thought was incredibly tempting, but in order to buy time, Howl really needed to get a move on.

Howl was in and out of bed all the next day. Howl made sure to keep popping out to announce things and ask questions, mostly for Sophie’s benefit. 

“Sophie, since you whitewashed over all the marks we made when we invented the castle, perhaps you can tell me where the marks in Michael’s room were?” 

“No." said Sophie. “I can’t.” Typical of her. Howl traipsed away to find his original research, and to start fresh.

A thought occurred to him, and he swept back out to where Sophie was still dutifully sewing away at the blue suit.

“Sophie, if we were to take that hat shop, what would we sell?” Sophie found she had had enough of hats to last a lifetime. 

“Not hats." she said, not looking up. “You can buy the shop, but not the business, you know.”

Well he wasn’t intending to sell _hats_ anyway. He just wanted to do something nice for once, and she was being difficult again. “Apply your fiendish mind to the matter." said Howl. “Or even think, if you know how.” And he marched away upstairs again.

He kept attempting to include her in the conversation. He wasn’t sure why.

She would respond curtly, but he fancied he could tell she was enjoying being involved. “Sophie, have you any preferences about the other entrances? Where would you like us to live?” 

“I’d like a nice house with lots of flowers." she said, finally looking up at him. She smiled thinly, and Howl nodded.

“I see." He marched away again to get dressed. When he was finally ready, he put on the red beard disguise and turned the doorknob green down.

“You’ll make your cold worse." Sophie chided, from behind him.

“I shall die and then you’ll all be sorry." He called back, and left the castle.

.

Michael had given him good directions, and he found where the shop was without much difficulty. He was running fashionably late, as he was wont to do, and as he approached he could tell the woman waiting for him was getting increasingly irritated.

“Mr Pendragon?” The former Mrs Hatter held both hands artfully on the pommel of her umbrella. “I’m afraid you’re rather late.”

“My deepest apologies, madam.” Howl bowed, not finding it terribly difficult to sound hoarse and old. He’d thought Fanny would look like Lettie- the Lettie at Mrs Fairfax’s, but she didn’t look like Lettie or the girl he thought was Sophie at all. She was fair, and younger than he expected, and beautiful in a careful sort of way.

She was dressed terribly well, and Howl had to admit she had fine taste- expensive fabrics paired in a way that showed wealth without being brassy about it.

She led the way inside. “I’m selling the shop as I have recently married.” She walked slowly around the counter, looking down at the dusty mannequin heads fondly. “I had thought it would be passed on to the eldest daughter of my late husband, but, well.”

She straightened her back and met his eyes sharply.

“There is a small kitchen to the back there, and an office through here. The milliners rooms are just to the left, and if you wish to have a look through the back here-“

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He said, graciously. “Do you mind if I have a look by myself?”

She sniffed, affronted. “I’m not going to leave you alone inside.” So Howl bowed courteously and meandered through the shop as Fanny followed him with a salesperson’s diligence, reassuring him about ever wonky floorboard, and every crack in the plaster on the walls.

He found himself imagining a young Sophie sat in the milliners room, though he had no real knowledge of what her life was like here, he fancied she would look out the window just here, dreaming of adventure and finding her fortune.

No, that didn’t really sound like Sophie at all.

She probably simply did her work, quietly critical of the customers she crafted hats for, and raising her eyebrows at Fanny’s fussiness. Perhaps she scrubbed at these floors with the resentful ferocity he loved so much.

Oh dear, indeed. The image was quite stirring. He was going quite delirious with this fever, but he found himself dreamily wandering through the shop wondering how Sophie might react to their odd little family setting up shop here (pardon the pun), and wondered if perhaps she really had a passion for hats after all, or whether she’d want to focus on something else.

Maybe she’d be so delighted she’d rid herself of the curse, and throw herself at him.

“Well?” Fanny was looking at him expectantly, and he found himself agreeing to pay the asking price. What on earth had happened to him?

.

“I took the shop." He announced on his return. “It’s got a useful shed at the back and a house at the side, and I took the lot. I’m not sure what I shall pay for it all with, though.” Sophie wasn’t really paying much attention, as far as he could tell, which made his face flush with irritation.

“What about the money you get if you find Prince Justin?” Michael asked. 

“You forget." croaked Howl, “the whole object of this operation is not to look for Prince Justin. We are going to vanish.” 

And he went coughing upstairs to bed, where Michael dutifully tended to him for the next hour or so. 

Sophie conspicuously _didn’t_ come to Howl’s aid, no matter how he spluttered, and he resolved to drag his carcass back downstairs to make her feel sorry for him, but he paused halfway down the stairs.

“We’re going to live in Market Chipping." Michael was saying. “I can go and see my Lettie every day.” 

“Is that why you told Howl about the shop?” Sophie asked. 

“Yes." Michael said happily. “Lettie told me about it when we were wondering how we’d ever see one another again. I told her—” 

Howl thudded down the stair, interrupting. “This is positively my last appearance." Howl croaked. “I forgot to say that Mrs Pentstemmon is being buried tomorrow on her estate near Porthaven and I shall need this suit cleaned.” He brought the grey and scarlet suit out from inside his coverlet and dropped it on Sophie’s lap. “You’re attending to the wrong suit." he told Sophie. “This is the one I like, but I haven’t the energy to clean it myself.” 

“You don’t need to go to the funeral, do you?” Michael said anxiously, looking genuinely surprised, which Howl found rather unfair.

“I wouldn’t dream of staying away." said Howl. “Mrs Pentstemmon made me the wizard I am. I have to pay my respects.” 

“But your cold’s worse." said Michael. 

“He’s made it worse." said Sophie, “by getting up and chasing around.”

Typical, heartless, cruel Sophie. “I’ll be all right." Howl croaked, “As long as I keep out of the sea wind. It’s a bitter place, the Pentstemmon estate., The trees are all bent sideways and there’s no shelter for miles.”

He headed back upstairs, feeling fairly morose, and laid down to fitful dreams of sideways trees and Mrs Pentstemmon’s voice calling to him. A soft footstep brought him around, and he listened intently with his eyes closed as Sophie shuffled to the window. A rustle of fabric let him know she was leaving something - presumably his suit - on the dresser.

“Still.” She murmured to herself. “If it stops you going to the funeral, that’s no loss.”

He thought she must know he was awake and be speaking to him, so he opened his eyes, but instead Sophie was looking out of the window, illuminated by a rosy gold sunset. Her hair looked almost red, and the light softened her old, craggy face to cast the illusion of smooth skin.

She must be the mayday girl, Howl thought dreamily, and spoke without truly being aware.

“Snooping again.” She turned to look at him and she seemed to blue even further into his dream-Sophie, all red hair and fiery eyes. “Teach me to keep off envy’s stinging- that’s all part of past years now.” He sighed. “I love Wales.” The longing was creeping back, and Sophie seemed to take a step toward him. “But it doesn’t love me. Megan’s full of envy because she’s respectable and I’m not.”

Something in Sophie’s expression caused him to jolt from his reverie. It felt like a bucket of ice water to the face.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Just putting out your suit for you.” Sophie all but fled his bedroom, leaving him to fitful, restless dreams once more.

.

The next morning started rather badly, with Sophie having chopped up his lovely scarlet suit and forcing Michael to vastly enlarge the blue and silver suit beyond reasonable, manageable size. He retreated to the bathroom, and stared at his reflection in the mirror with a sense of deflated nostalgia.

Mrs Pentstemmon had always liked his hair black, and it seemed fitting to mourn her properly. It had been a very long time since he’d gone so dark. His chest felt heavy.

He took some satisfaction in the look on Sophie’s face when he finally headed downstairs again. She looked quite annoyed and ran straight to the bathroom to snoop. As he called the dog over, Howl couldn’t help himself from calling after her. “You won’t find my other suit in the bathroom, Mrs Snoop. You’re not getting your hands on any of my clothes again.”

Although she’d done a decent enough job on the blue suit, which he was currently wearing beneath the black.

“What do you think of this as a disguise?” He asked Michael, Sophie and Calcifer, transfiguring himself to a mirror of Sophie’s new dog. The dog wasn’t best impressed with his effort, growling menacingly. Howl decided it was a compliment of sorts, and played up to it.

Sophie hurried towards them and grabbed Howl’s tail as Michael took hold of the other dog. Transforming promptly back into himself, Howl smiled. “Good. If I can deceive another dog, I can fool everyone else.” He turned to glance at Sophie, who was rather red in the face. “No one at the funeral is going to notice a stray dog lifting it’s leg against the gravestones.” He winked cheekily, and headed for the door.

“Wait a moment.” Sophie huffed. “If you’re going to the funeral as a red setter, why take all the trouble of getting yourself up in black?”

“Respect to Mrs Pentstemmon.” Howl replied. “She liked one to think of the details.” Sophie, he supposed, was far too practical to understand.


	10. In Which The Moving Castle Moves House

Howl hadn’t been to an Ingary funeral before. In Wales, funerals in Wales were typically done in a place of worship, and led by a vicar or other religious leader. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he headed to Mrs Pentstemmon’s funeral but he figured that since he currently resembled a large red setter he didn’t need to worry too much about knowing proper etiquette.

From afar, it certainly looked similar. Howl watched them lift the casket onto a decorative structure and four of Mrs Pentstemmon’s former students cast a spell to set it alight. It seemed like the funeral was arranged in full circles around the coffin and its pyre.

Rows of men and women in glittering, jewelled robes from across the land and further were whispering something in unison, and Howl scanned the crowd looking for _her._

No one stood out to him, but he’d always had some trouble spotting the disguises she cast on herself. Even those she cast on others were tricky to catch unless he was looking for it. It was bad enough that he’d missed Sophie’s at first.

He felt rather guilty that he didn’t know the words to send Mrs Pentstemmon off properly in her own custom, so he instead said a few words of the prayer he and Megan had said for their parents.

The fire swelled and seemed to wrap around the coffin. It glowed the most wonderful red and orange, and he briefly fancied the tendrils to be strands of hair, catching the sunlight.

He was distracted, and didn’t sense her coming until she was practically on top of him.

He didn’t know how she’d found him, he was quite sure the disguise was strong enough, but she’d been cunning, and he’d clearly not been behaving suitably dog-like.

The Witch of the Waste shrieked terribly, and Howl flung himself upwards out of instinct, transforming himself and swooping up, panicked. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her hot on his tails, and he knew. He knew his mistake even as he did it.

He flew home.

“Brace yourself Calcifer!” He shouted into the castle as he swooped overhead. “She’s found me!”

The Witch flung lightning spells at him, and he fled to the harbour, where he and Calcifer put up an illusion spell.

The fight was frenzied, and he was reacting out of pure instinct for the most of it. Calcifer was channeling as much energy into Howl as he could, but the Witch’s demon was much, much older and much, much more experienced.

As he fended her off above the harbour, he heard cried of “What _are_ those?” And glanced down to check on his illusion spell- it looked like mermaids were emerging from the water, and he could see Sophie and Michael, in disguise, watching the fight overhead.

He looked back to the Witch, and realised she was in the middle of sending something rather terrible his way. His levitation spell erupted in pink flame and he swerved, casting a spell to produce a doppelgänger on the false boat in the harbour by the mermaids.

His double leaned against the mast and waved up at the Witch to let her know she’d missed him, and Howl grinned as she fell for the trick, and lunged at the illusion.

Which, of course, disappeared as soon as she grabbed at it, sending her straight into the water.

The Witch seemed to cause a much larger splash than anticipated, and twenty foot waves rocked the other, real ships dangerously, to the frightened cries of the gathering onlookers.

Howl transformed into a sea monster, creating two more as a diversion, and raced back towards the Witch, who mirrored him. Six sea monsters chased each other through the crashing waves and Howl could feel his illusions losing shape. He simply wasn’t a match for the Witch’s fire demon, and Calcifer was channelling his all into the efforts too.

They burst out of the water and into the air, six of them flying and twisting over each other as they fought and skittered across the roofs of Porthaven. They began to branch off, one chasing one and another chasing another, coupling off into separate fights. There was a roughly 1 in 3 chance Howl would end up face to face with the real Witch, and he hoped he would luck out and get away.

He got about four streets away from the other two fights before conjuring a replacement of himself and he fled, transforming into a cat. Luckily, it seemed Howl’s own illusions were holding out longer than the Witch’s, and all three fights continued and moved further and further away from the harbour, in different directions.

It was tiring him out, but Howl meandered home slowly, just about maintaining his own shape when he heard a bark and dashed towards the castle as a dog gave chase. He glanced back and with a rush of relief shouted out from the doorway.

“Geroff! This is all I needed!” The dog retreated back to Sophie’s side, looking chastised. Howl shrank down to kitten size as Michael, dressed in the horse disguise, ran over to him, calling his name in evident relief. “And you both look ridiculous! Open the door. I’m exhausted.”

Sophie stepped forwards and opened the door for him, without any smart comments. She was watching him with an odd expression but he was far too tired to pay adequate attention.

With the door open, Howl crawled slowly to the hearth, and Calcifer, who was clearly as exhausted as he was. The fire demon was little more than a low, blue flicker, and Howl hunched over him, gradually resuming his human form.

“Did you kill the Witch?” Michael asked, seemingly oblivious to the effort it took for Howl simply to keep upright.

“No.” Howl sighed. He flopped into the armchair. “All that on top of a cold! Sophie, for pity’s sake take off that horrible red beard and find the bottle of brandy in the closet - unless you’ve drunk it or turned it into turpentine, of course.”

Silently, and still with that odd expression, Sophie removed her disguise and prepared him a brandy. Howl downed it, grimacing, and poured a second glass for Calcifer. It seemed to help, and Howl drank the next glass more slowly.

“Don’t stand staring at me!” He snapped, and not entirely sure who to. “I don’t know who won. The Witch is mighty hard to come at.” Sophie was circling the room, watching him in the faint light. “She relies mostly on her fire demon and stays behind out of trouble. But I think we gave her something to think about, eh, Calcifer?”

Indignant, Calcifer seemed to revive a little. “It’s old… I’m stronger, but it knows things I never thought of. She’s had it a hundred years.” He spluttered slightly. “And it’s half killed me! You might have warned me!”

“I did, you old fraud! You know everything I know.” Howl sipped the brandy and watched Sophie watching him, as Michael set about preparing some food for them all.

The Witch had found them too close to home. It was Howl’s fault, of course, but it meant they were clean out of alternative options.

“This won’t do!” Howl stood up. “Look sharp, Michael. The Witch knows we’re in Porthaven.” He tore his eyes away from Sophie’s and looked to Calcifer. “We’re not only going to have to move the castle and the Kingsbury entrance now. I shall have to transfer Calcifer to the house that goes with the hat shop.”

He steadfastly refused to look at her now. Whether she picked up on the significance of the hat shop or not, he was going to feign ignorance but he just didn’t have the energy to spare.

“Move _me?_ ” Calcifer glared at him, appalled.

“That’s right.” Howl leaned close. “You have a choice between Market Chipping or the Witch. Don’t go and be difficult.” He swept upstairs, and heard Calcifer’s dismayed cry before he slammed the door closed.

“Curses!”

Howl got to work immediately. He and Michael worked unusually quietly, both focused on preparing the castle properly. Michael was thoroughly covered in chalk dust and Howl was too tired to point out that a decent barrier spell would keep it off him.

“Sophie!” Howl called. “Quickly!” She emerged, looking bemused. “What are we going to sell in that shop?”

“Flowers.” Sophie said quietly and Howl raised an eyebrow, as that would be easy indeed.

He headed to the door and began repainting the colour indicator, picturing each location as he did so. He shook some paint off his sleeve and realised Sophie had crept up behind him.

“Which suit is that, really?” She was eyeing him shrewdly and Howl turned away from her, a little unnerved.

“I’ve forgotten. Don’t interrupt. The difficult part is just coming up.” Howl scowled, retrieving the spell from the kitchen table. “Michael! Where’s the silver shovel?”

The boy ran back in from the yard with the shovel. “All set out here!” He called.

Howl rested the shovel on his knee and drew the final symbols on the handle and blade. He prepared the key symbol on the floor and nodded to Michael. “Stand clear Michael. Everyone stay clear. Are you ready, Calcifer?”

Calcifer hid behind the logs, eyeing Howl nervously. “As ready as I shall ever be… You know this could kill me, don’t you?”

“Look on the bright side.” Howl smiled wryly. “It could be me it kills.” Calcifer met his eyes then, and they shared a brief chuckle. “Hold on tight. One, two, three.” He brought Calcifer up and out of the grate, careful not to bruise the heart at Calcifer’s base. It wobbled, and Howl breathed a sigh of relief as Calcifer stabilised. “Done it!” He turned and brought Calcifer towards the living area, where the keystone spell was drawn out.

Focusing hard, Howl tried to ignore the thick black smoke billowing out from the old fireplace, and stepped into the middle of the five pointed star on the floor. At this point, it was mainly down to Calcifer, and Howl focused on channeling his energy into the fire demon.

The room shifted, and turned, Sophie and Michael looked around with interest. The castle had kept its own features, but stretched and twisted to fit into the parlour of the Market Chipping shop. If Sophie recognised it, she wasn’t letting on.

“Have you done it, Calcifer?” Howl asked, with a cough. The cold still hadn’t budged properly and he was still exhausted after fighting the Witch not long ago.

“I think so.” Calcifer said, rising up the chimney as Howl carefully returned him to the fireplace. “You’d better check me though.”

Howl heaved himself to the door and turned the dial yellow-down, opening the door to Market Chipping, Howl nodded his approval and closed the door, turning it orange-down and opening the door to see a large, wide driveway. “Where _is_ this?” Howl asked, surprised.

“An empty mansion at the end of the valley. It’s the nice house you told me to find.” Calcifer said, defensively. “It’s quite fine.” Howl wasn’t sure the overgrown, weedy driveway actually _was_ quite what he’d asked for but he supposed it would look quite fine when done up.

“I’m sure it is.” Howl said peaceably. “I simply hope the real owners won’t object.” He turned the knob purple down. “Now for the moving castle.”

He opened the door and checked outside. The sun was setting and the flowers in the ‘garden’ were glowing and fragrant. Sophie began to walk over and Howl shut it with a firm click.

“No.” He said, not looking at her. “Your long nose stays out of there until tomorrow. That part’s right on the edge of the Waste.” He sighed, feeling the exhaustion cloud his mind and make his bones ache. “Well done, Calcifer. Perfect. A nice house with lots of flowers, as ordered.”

He flung the shovel down and dragged himself to bed. There was plenty still to do, but he wasn’t ready to think about it right now.

He flung himself into bed, his eyes already shut and as he teetered on the edge of a dreamless sleep, he heard Sophie speak.

“Calcifer… Were you ever a falling star?”


	11. In Which Sophie Returns To Market Chipping

Howl spent the night making preparations. He’d turned the knob black down and locked it, preventing Sophie or Michael from exploring as he worked. He’d also dyed his hair blond again to be as recognisable as possible.

He’d babysat Neil and Mari, gone down into town to meet up with the old rugby crowd, and made sure to loiter near Miss Angorian’s flat and flirt with a couple of the girls from the pub. He was working hard to make the Witch believe he had more of a base in Wales than he actually did and, to his own surprise, he was enjoying it.

Absence clearly made the heart (such as it was) grow fonder, and he found he’d missed the rugby team- he'd slotted right back in as though he'd never been away. It made his empty chest ache a little. Dafydd had even invited him along to his stag do later in the year. A weekend in London.

Howl hoped he’d be able to make it.

It was in the wee hours of the next morning that he actually bumped into Miss Angorian. He was making his way back home after sleeping on Ian's sofa, and he found himself going past Neil's school as she was going in to teach. He vaguely wondered at the work the Witch and her demon were going to, in order to capture him. Miss Angorian was clearly holding down a full time job, even if she could grade homework with magic in the evenings.

"Lily!" He called, playing the part of enamoured courtier. "Lily Angorian!"

She stopped at the gate and turned to face him with a dour look. "Mr Jenkins, isn't it?"

"You wound me." He slumped against the school railings with a wobbly smile. "I had hoped to see you at the Crown tonight. Where were you? Isn't it quite close to your home?"

"It is." The demon said primly. "But I don't drink on school nights, Mr Jenkins, as I would advise you not to, if you had a job."

"Ah." He wagged a finger at her. "I do quite alright for myself I'll have you know. You really must let me take you out sometime."

"No." She turned and headed into the school, and Howl was quietly relieved. He kept up the pretence of drunkenness, however, and staggered back towards Megan's house.

He reentered the castle to find Sophie, surprise surprise, hunched over the floor scrubbing at chalk. He should really teach her some cleaning spells, but that would probably leave her unsure what to do with herself. He stepped over her with a smile. 

“Work, work work.” He said airily. He picked the skull out of the sink and held a hand to his heart. “Alas, poor Yorick! She heard mermaids, so it follows there is something rotten in the state of Denmark." He may still be a bit tipsy from the night before. "I have caught an everlasting cold, but luckily I am terribly dishonest. I cling to that.” He coughed dramatically for Sophie’s benefit, but she set her mouth in a thin line and looked to the dog.

"You should go back to Lettie." Sophie muttered. "What's the matter? Miss Angorian not going well?"

"Terribly." Howl sighed. "Lily Angorian has a heart like boiled stone." Which was true, in a way. He was endlessly entertained by the ways in which he was able to lie and tell the truth at the same time.

However, he was running out of time.

"Michael!" He called for the young apprentice. "Food! Work!"

Luckily, Sophie had plenty of supplies and was able to whip up a pretty robust breakfast for them- bacon with sausages, eggs, tomatoes and fried bread. Exactly what he needed.

It revived him quite well, and he and Michael were able to get to work on opening up the castle into the shop they'd bought.Sophie was mostly left to her own devices with the dog as Howl and Michael emptied out the broom cupboard and began sledgehammering their way through the walls.

Howl climbed through and, thinking of Mrs Pentstemmon's grand hallway, tiled the floors in the same style. He'd found some waxed flowers in the shed behind the shop, and arranged them in vases on the shelves next to the counter. He found it quite enjoyable, this sort of work. He was making the rooms beautiful, and Michael beamed at him when it was ready.

"Sophie will love it." He said. "It looks perfect, Howl."

"She'd better." Howl said, tugging his sleeves back down and inspecting his hands critically. "Though I'm confident she'll find something wrong."

They called her through, and she appeared with broom in hand, as though expecting them to ask her to help out. She blinked at the new archway that led into the shop, and slowly walked in. Howl and Michael both watched her face, which remained frustratingly still. She eyed the room with what seemed like gentle suspicious and her eyes landed on the vases of waxed flowers.

"I found the flowers in the work shed out the back." Howl said when he noticed her pause. "Come and look at the outside." He led her out of the front door and she looked around the street before turning back regard the sign with that same suspicious stare.

"Changed your mind about common names, haven't you?" She asked, mouth finally tweaking upwards in something resembling a smile, but it had a nasty bitterness to it that he didn't like.

"For reasons of disguise only. I prefer Pendragon." Howl replied, loftily.

"And where do the fresh flowers come from? You can't say _that_ -" She jabbed a finger at the sign with an arched eyebrow. "-and then sell wax roses off hats." Oh so that's what they were, Howl thought. Did seeing them there upset her?

She was, he decided, being rather callous; she was trying to find things that she could tell him off about, and ignoring all the little touches he'd made to integrate her old life with her new one.

"Wait and see." Howl led her through the shop to the back yard to show her how the existing yard and castle yard had slotted together. He watched her survey the back of the house in silence and felt the indignation bubble away in the pit of his stomach.

She'd been increasingly snarky and distant over the last few days, and it struck him as terribly unfair. He'd put real, actual hard work into this and he'd not gotten so much as a 'thank you' or even a real smile from her.

Had she always been this unbearably cold? Where had the fire gone?

They headed back inside, Howl ignored Michael slightly defeated expression as they traipsed up the stairs.

"I think it's all very nice." She said quietly, from behind him as they headed back in.

Howl bristled. "Really?" He kept his voice hard. He led Sophie to the door and turned the dial purple-down.

He didn't think he was being particularly demanding, asking for a little gratitude.

So when he opened the door to the 'garden' at the edge of the waste, he gestured with a halfhearted flourish at the scene before them, but didn't look back at her. The sun was bright and still climbing the sky above them, casting fresh, pale light over the grasses and flowers in a hazy, almost ethereal way.

He began to walk down the hill from the door, leading the gently trodden path through the wildflowers and bushes to the hot spring, crowded with water-lilies, hidden behind a grove of magnolia trees that had been nurtured and bespelled to maintain their fist-sized pink flowers alongside young green leaves.

"You see? We can cut flowers by the arm-load every morning and sell them in Market Chipping with the dew still on them." Howl finally risked a glance back and immediately regretted it.

Sophie's face was now alight with wonder.

This was what got the reaction? A field of flowers? It hadn't even been specially created for her. It had taken time to build up and then left to run wild, here at the edge of the Waste.

Despite Howl's indignation he thawed a little. “If you come out here alone, bring your stick to test the ground with.” He pointed out to where the ground got marshier. “It’s full of springs and bogs,. And don’t go any further that way.” He pointed to where the Waste began to reclaim the land. “That’s the Waste over there - very hot and barren and full of Witch.”

Sophie’s eyes widened a little. “Who planted these flowers, right on the edge of the Waste?”

“Wizard Suliman started it a year ago.” Howl said, at length. “I think his notion was to make the Waste flower and abolish the Witch that way. He brought hot springs to the surface and got it growing. He was doing very nicely until the Witch caught him.”

“Mrs Pentstemmon said some other name.” Sophie mused. “He came from the same place as you, didn’t he?” She glanced at him sideways, warily, as though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to know.

Not that it had ever stopped her before. They began to walk towards the castle, which had moved closer to the hot springs they were circling.

“More or less.” Howl admitted. “I never met him though. I came and had another go at this place a few months later, It seemed a good idea.” He shrugged. “That’s how I came to meet the Witch… She objected to it.”

“Why?”

“She likes to think of herself as a flower.” Howl said, reaching to open the castle door. “A solitary orchid, blooming in the Waste.” He thought back briefly to that first meeting, when he’s thought she might be the one. “Pathetic, really.”

He headed inside, followed slowly by Sophie, who couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the ‘garden’. “Won’t the Witch know you’re here?”

Howl held out a hand to help her inside. “I tried to do the thing she’d least expect.” He shrugged, closing the door with a nod of his head.

Sophie paused, holding onto his hand tightly. “And _are_ you trying to find Prince Justin?” She asked. Howl managed to slip her grasp, and called for Michael as he ran into the new extension, through what used to be the broom cupboard.

.

They settled into something of a happy routine after that. Howl was sleeping very little, between making sure he looked the part, heading into Wales to rebuild burned bridges and plant himself more firmly there, then coming back for a late breakfast before the shop opened. Michael and Sophie both were wary of the amount of time he was spending in Wales, asking him questions he would evade as best he could.

He would join them in the shop at peak time, in the later morning after he’d refreshed himself in the bathroom. The villagers of Market Chipping had taken to calling Sophie ‘Aunt Jenkins’, and she would watch him working his charms on the customers, encouraging them to buy more flowers than they’d intended. He grew uncomfortable over the course of the week, and began to spend more time in the work shed where he could continue to make preparations for the Witch’s next move.

“I’m setting up defences against the Witch, before you ask.” He said, as Sophie opened her mouth to speak. “By the time I’ve finished, there will be no way she can get into any part of this place.” Which would leave her no choice but to go after his weakest flank.

Sophie worked with renewed vigour, and Michael told Howl about her little experiments with the flowers, practicing her magic in quiet ways. She seemed emptier though, ever since they’d come to Market Chipping. Howl had thought it might be good for her, and that she might work to release her own curse in order to return to her own life. Both Lettie’s were hoping she’d come to them- Howl had left the seven league boots out for Sophie to use if she wished, and Cesari’s bakery wasn’t far from the shop at all. Sophie wasn’t kept to any particular hours, but she almost never went outside the front door.

Then, Sophie began spending less time in the shop, and more time with Calcifer in the castle. They would play games and talk to each other every day on their own, and Howl was quite concerned about it. Sophie was seemingly making a conscious decision to avoid her old life, and the shop. She was retreating into the castle and her new life as an old woman.

Howl was concerned, indeed.

As the days grew longer and Midsummer drew near, Howl decided he should have a look at some of Sophie’s experiments. Perhaps he could cheer her up a little. Sophie was in the shop, inspecting a rather pink orchid-like flower on the counter. “What is that thing?” Howl asked. “If you were expecting an ultra-violet violet or an infra-red geranium, you go it wrong Mrs Mad Scientist.” He teased.

“It looks to me like a squashed baby-flower.” Michael said, coming in to look.

Sophie frowned. Howl glanced to Michael, alarmed, and carefully pulled the plant from its pot, revealing the brown shape hidden between the whiter roots.

“I might have guessed.” He felt a little faint. “It’s a mandrake root. Sophie strikes again.” He took great care replacing the plant in its pot. “You do have a touch, don’t you Sophie?” He passed Sophie her prize, and retreated back to the work shed.

Nearly the entire curse had now come true.

One thing left.

The wind to advance an honest mind.

“Luckily I am terribly dishonest. I cling to that.”

But would it really be enough?


	12. In Which Howl is Somewhat Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 has been updated because I realised I made a mistake! The scenario where Lettie and Howl talk about Sophie now matches Percival’s recollection.

Howl had, of course, been searching for Prince Justin. He’d set up a sort of radar in the work shed, and a divination station was prepared on the table. The issue was, that Prince Justin wasn’t really anywhere in the mapped world. The downing crystal kept swinging erratically between multiple locations and, as of late, had been swinging over some of the castle’s locations too.

He’d tried on a map of his own world, just in case, and had even worse results. The crystal simply circled in smaller and smaller circles until it hung uselessly from its chain. There was no quiver of purpose of magic to give him hope.  
So he worked on his other projects instead. It was Midsummers’ eve and he was very much out of time.

He visited Fanny first.

Her husband was away on business, it seemed, and although the house was full of servants, it certainly felt like Fanny was alone when he stepped inside the drawing room. Fanny’s handmaiden bowed and retreated from the room, and Howl sat down across from fanny, taking the tea offered by her butler.

“I have rather embarrassing confession to make.” He began, and Fanny frowned. “I’m not here to discuss a problem with my purchase of the shop in Market Chipping.”

“Oh?” Fanny said lightly. “I hear you’re selling flowers. Our Sophie always liked fresh flowers, you see.”

“We are.” Howl nodded. “I’m actually here to discuss your stepdaughter.”

Fanny’s hands shook a little, but otherwise maintained her quite civil demeanour. “I don’t mean to be impolite.” She said, airily. “But unless you’re here to release her into my care, then I’m not sure we have a great deal to say to one another.”

So she’d heard then. “Oh good. So then we can move on to the next-…”

“Why did you never say anything?” Fanny hissed. “When you came to the shop, you came in disguise, and you never said a word.”

“I’m sorry.” Howl smiled blandly. “It didn’t really occur to me.”

Fanny looked distressed, and Howl managed to stop himself from flirting to distract her. He realised with a jolt that Sophie’s stepmother was not much older than him at all. She was most likely in her early thirties. He thought of how old Sophie must be in reality and felt rather unsettled.

“Look.” Howl sighed, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “Sophie’s been cursed by the Witch of the Waste.” He held up a finger when Fanny opened her mouth to say I know that. “She has been living in my castle since May Day, and she misses all of you very much.” Well, he supposed she did. Her reaction to the shop opening was too difficult for him to understand and so he didn’t try to anymore. “But the curse has been lifted and she’s still an old woman. There’s something else holding her and I think it’s Sophie herself.”

“Sophie herself?” Fanny repeated, faintly. “But how could that be?”

“I’m not willing to keep her on as my cleaning lady any longer.” Howl said, with what he hoped was a suitably callous smile.

“She’s causing quite a lot of trouble for me. I’m returning her to your care.”

Fanny clearly didn’t care about his motivations. “Of course. You’re probably working her to the bone with not a care for her wellbeing!” She pinked slightly, and paused. Howl didn’t really understand why but it didn’t matter.

“Wonderful. I had thought I would be able to restore Sophie to her previous self but it I’ve done all that I can and so there’s no reason to keep her on. My attention is needed elsewhere.”

Fanny stood, eagerly. “When can I see her- now?” She looked to the door, as though expecting to see Sophie hobble through.  
Yes, Sophie was loved here. She would be alright.

“Towards the end of tomorrow, perhaps.” Howl stood too, smoothing his jacket and putting the tea down. “It will give you time to prepare a room for her, and she can organise her own affairs ahead of time.” He nodded vaguely, waving a hand dismissively. “You can collect her from the shop.”

Fanny moved to catch his sleeve, but seemed to think better of it at the last moment. “Were you keeping her in the hopes of trapping her?” Fanny’s light, dimwitted eyes seemed to narrow.

Howl simply blinked. Were all the women in this family so determined to be cruel to him? His character was being thoroughly desecrated.

But Fanny, flushed and defensive, continued. “She would never fall into a trap of yours. Not Sophie, she’s too shrewd… You likely got bored of her, am I right?”

“No, indeed.” Howl smiled blandly. “I enjoy taking on projects, that’s all.”

He headed to Mrs Fairfax next, wondering if all this effort was really worth it when he was sure a letter would suffice. In many ways he wanted today to be over and done with, and in many more severe ways he wanted it to last forever.

The bothersome dog was nowhere to be seen, for which he was grateful. Mrs Fairfax ushered him in with a frantic eagerness that never failed to surprise him. Lettie was working on a casual revealing spell in the kitchen and looked up with a wary expression as he entered.

“Lettie, darling.” He greeted with a smile. She stood abruptly and nearly knocked over her boiling flask. “I have good news.”

“You broke the curse?” She asked directly, with a lift of the chin, and Howl realised the significance of the spell she was working on.

“Well, most of it.” He said, blithely. “The important thing is that I believe Sophie may be ready to see you.” He held up a hand as Lettie opened her mouth to speak. It felt rather as though all the Hatter women spoke far too much, and often unkindly (at least to him) and he wasn’t quite in the mood to navigate their barbs. “Tomorrow. I’ve spoken to Fanny and you’re all to come to the castle through the shop entrance tomorrow, in the later afternoon. You too, if you wish, Mrs Fairfax.” He bowed graciously.

Mrs Fairfax looked pleased. “Well of course. I’ve been curious about that castle of yours for a long time.”

Then he went to Cesari’s. Asking for the other Lettie was difficult indeed, as it seemed half of Ingary was asking after her, but he eventually got a message through and met her around the back of the bakery ovens. “I can’t stay long.” He said apologetically. “But I’d like to invite you to the castle tomorrow.”

“Why?” This Lettie was eager but wary. He wondered vaguely what Michael had been saying about him. “Even Michael won’t bring me to the castle.”  
“I’ve been unable to break the curse on Sophie.” Howl admitted. “But I think it would do her good to see all of you.”

Lettie, who looked remarkably like the other Lettie but with more blonde in her hair and a rounder face, with freckles and lighter eyes, watched him in silence for a moment before bursting into a wide, shining smile. “Thank you Howl.” She moved to hug him, but seemed to think better of it and simply twiddled her thumbs together quickly. “Michael speaks terribly highly of you. I’m sure you’ve been doing your absolute best for Sophie.”

Howl was rather surprised. He was quite used to being treated with hostility at this point and to be met with such gratitude was disarming. “Well… Of course.”

“So thank you.” Lettie said, and launched herself at him in a great hug that caused warmth to blossom throughout his chest. “I’m sure Sophie makes it difficult but you know - the harder she is, the more she cares.” She let him go before he could even try to hold her back. “She is a bother!”

She was dabbing at her eyes and it made Howl terribly uncomfortable. He bowed quickly and managed to give her a time, along with directions, before he fled the bakery completely.

.

Howl returned to the shop in a rather good mood indeed. He was whistling along to some pop song or another, but was stopped in his tracks by the fierce glare Sophie shot him as he entered.

Made all the worse by the fact he had no idea what he was meant to have done wrong.

“Merciful heavens! I think that turned me to stone!” He wiped his feet on the doormat in case that was the concern. “What’s the matter?”

“What suit are you wearing?” Sophie snarled.

“Does it matter?” Howl asked, nonplussed. He looked down at his clothes incredulously. He really hadn’t been prepared for this at all.

“Yes!” Sophie growled. “And don’t give me that about being in mourning!” She planted her hands on the counter and glared at him. “Which one is it really?”

Howl shrugged and held up one arm, revealing the blue and silver suit beneath to Sophie. “That one.” He let the black colour cover it up again and dropped his arm, rather perturbed. Sophie simply huffed, apparently in an even worse mood, and crossed her arms. Howl laughed, pleadingly, “Sophie!”

A dog came in from the back patio. Sophie appeared to have traded her Red Setter for an Old English Sheepdog. Howl stared, cogs working away in his brain.

“You’ve got an Old English Sheepdog now.” He commented. “Two dogs are going to take a lot of feeding.” Where was Michael when Sophie was squandering their money, that’s what Howl would like to know.

“There’s only one dog.” Sophie huffed. “He’s under a spell.”

“He is?” Howl asked, and moved over to the dog, getting out from under Sophie’s glare. The dog attempted to flee, but Howl caught him buy the scruff and inspected him carefully. “So he is! Sophie- what do you mean by not telling me about this? This dog is a man! And he’s in a terrible state!” The dog had been living with them for… close to a week! And Sophie hadn’t said a word.

Howl turned to her, furious. “You could have noticed for yourself.” She said, glaring back. “Anyway, the dog didn’t want-…”

Howl began to drag the dog towards the main room of the castle, too angry to listen to Sophie’s excuses. “And so I would have done, if I hadn’t had other things on my mind.” He said through gritted teeth, not really caring that his hair was falling in his face. “Come on. I want you in front of Calcifer.” He hissed to the dog, who didn’t seem that obliged to obey him.

“Michael!” He shouted, fuming.

Michael came running, pale faced and a little panicked.

“Did you know this dog was really a man?” Howl accused, struggling to bring the dog through the archway.

“He’s not, is he?” Michael asked, mortified.

“Then I let you off and just blame Sophie.” Howl said, hauling the dog through the archway. “Anything like this is always Sophie! But you knew, didn’t you, Calcifer?” Michael and he dragged the dog to Calcifer’s hearth, and Calcifer retreated backwards to the shadows which, unfortunately, were chased away by his own light.

“You never asked.” He said, meekly.

Howl could have screamed. “Do I have to ask you?” Howl cried. “All right, I should have noticed myself! But you disgust me, Calcifer!” He spat. “Compared with the way the Witch treats her demon, you live a revoltingly easy life, and all I ask in return is that you tell me things I need to know.”

He glared into Calcifer’s eyes with as much emotion as he had left.

“This is twice you’ve let me down!” He hissed dangerously. “Now help me get this creature to its own shape this minute!”  
Calcifer glowed a pale blue. “All right.” He said, sulky but submissive under Howl’s fury.

Howl and Michael held the dog up on his hind legs, but it struggled against them in a panic. “What’s the silly creature holding out for?” Howl gasped. “This feels like one of the Witch of the Waste’s again, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” Calcifer agreed. “There are several layers of it.”

“Let’s get the dog part off, anyway.” Howl said, and he thrust his energy to Calcifer, who pulled away the layers of curse that kept the dog in its shape.

The dog convulsed and quivered into the shape of a man. He was clearly rather in shock, and looked terrified by Howl and Calcifer. He wore a terribly unfashionable brown suit, crumpled and distressed. Howl had his suspicions about the man, but chose to keep them to himself, and instead put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Now, who are you, my friend?” He asked.

The man put his hands up and shakily felt his own face. “I-I’m not sure.”

Calcifer flared slightly, clearly attempting to get himself back in Howl’s good graces. “The most recent name he answered to was Percival.”

“Did I?” The man looked rather pained.

“Then we’ll call you Percival for now.” Howl settled, turning his new housemate around and guiding him into a chair. “Sit there and take it easy, and tell us what you do remember. By the feel of you, the Witch had you for some time.”

“Yes.” Percival nodded stiffly. “She took my head off. I-I remember being on a shelf, looking down at the rest of me.”

“But you’d be dead!” Michael shrieked, astonished. Sophie was off to one side, clearly as fascinated as Michael but looking suitably guilty. Good.

“Not necessarily.” Howl assured Michael. “You haven’t got to that sort of witchcraft yet, but I could take any piece of you I wanted and leave the rest of you alive, if I went about it the right way.” He frowned at Percival. “But I’m not sure the Witch put this one back together properly.”

Calcifer, who was obviously trying to be as helpful as possible, piped up. “This man is incomplete, and he has parts from some other man too.”

Percival looked like he was about to topple over from shock. Howl straightened his back. “Don’t alarm him, Calcifer. He must feel bad enough anyway.” He sighed. “Do you know why the Witch took your head off, my friend?”

“No.” Percival said glumly. “I don’t remember anything.”

Sophie snorted dubiously, clearly losing some of her guilt. Howl found it rather amusing but fought to keep a straight face. Michael lunged forward. “Did you ever answer to the name of Justin - or Your Royal Highness?” Sophie snorted again.

“No.” Percival said hesitantly. “The Witch called me Gaston, but that isn’t my name.”

“Don’t crowd him, Michael.” Howl said firmly, with a quirk of his mouth. “And don’t make Sophie snort again. The mood she’s in, she’ll bring down the castle next time.”

He looked up to smile at Sophie but she was already stomping into the shop, seemingly angrier than ever. Howl stood quickly, baffled.

“Michael, what on earth has gotten into Sophie?” Howl exclaimed. But before Michael could respond he was on his feet and heading after her.

She was banging about in the shop, and as she came to some rotten daffodils in a bucket. Howl approached her from behind, warily. “What’s all this now?” He bent over the bucket and sniffed. “You seem to have some rather efficient weedkiller here. How about trying it on those weeds on the drive of the mansion?” He teased, quietly impressed with the sheer toxicity of her concoction.

He was playing around, but she didn’t even look at him, and simply stormed off with a rather aggressive “I will. I feel like killing something!” And she slammed around until she had found a watering can. Howl followed her back through the shop to the castle door, where the others looked equally baffled by her mood.

She turned the doorknob orange-down, and tramped out furiously. Percival was twanging tunelessly at the guitar and, worried he’d damage it, Howl suggested Percival follow Sophie outside to look after her.

Once Percival was outside, Howl set about quickly making up a listening spell. “Michael, quick! Pass that to me.” Howl gestured at the wide terracotta bowl. Michael brought it to him, obeying without thinking before-

“Hang one, Howl is that a listening spell?” Michael asked, aghast. “You can’t spy on Sophie!”

“Percival knows more than he’s saying.” Howl reasoned. “If anyone can get the truth out it’s Sophie. He’s been following her around like- uh. A lost puppy.” He held his hand out. “I need the lavender and a quartz crystal. The cathedral one.”

Michael didn’t really know how to say no, and obeyed.

With a flourish, Howl drew the spell together. _“… the least Howl could do is to make the place look a bit more lived in.”_ Sophie’s voice muttered, reverberating slightly off the sides of the bowl. _“But no! He’s far too busy gadding off to Wales! Don’t just stand there Percival! Pour some of that stuff into the can and then come along behind me.”_

Poor Percival, indeed. Howl straightened. “Calcifer!” He called. “We may as well spruce the place up a bit.”

“I’m resting!” Calcifer sulked. “Do it yourself.”

 _“You remember a great deal more than you let on.”_ Sophie continued. _“What did the Witch really want with you? Why did she bring you into the shop with her that time?”_

She must be talking about when she was cursed, Howl realised. He’d never gotten to the bottom of why the Witch would curse Sophie in the first place, but had assumed she was jealous of Sophie’s talent. It was a rare thing indeed, talking life into inanimate objects.

He didn’t react, but Michael looked to him, nevertheless.

 _“She wanted to find out about Howl.”_ Percival said glumly.

 _“Howl?”_ Sophie cried, _“But you didn’t know him, did you?”_

_“No but I must have known something. It had to do with the curse she’d put on him but I have no idea what it was. She took it, you see, after we came to the shop. I feel bad about that. I was trying to stop her knowing, because a curse is an evil thing. I did it by thinking about Lettie.”_

And he just kept talking, Howl rolled his eyes as Percival continued to tell his story to Sophie in short, hesitant sentences.

Clearly one of the men in Percival had met Lettie before- how many men did she have on the go? Between the two Letties they seemed to have the whole of Ingary after them. Was Sophie the only one who didn’t have suitors?

He realised with a slight jolt that he had no idea if Sophie did have any suitors prior to her curse. Both her sisters were beauties and it only made sense that Sophie would be too.

_“… when the Witch made me tell her about Lettie, I said she kept a hat shop in Market Chipping. So the Witch went there to teach us both a lesson. And you were there. She thought you were Lettie. I was horrified, because I didn’t know Lettie had a sister.”_

Sophie was silent for rather a long time, and Howl finalised the spell on the mansion, making it look just so. He even left a window open upstairs, with gauzy white curtain trailing out in the summer breeze.

Finally, Sophie spoke. _“And she turned you into a dog straight after that?”_

 _“Just outside the town. As soon as I’d let her know what she wanted.”_ Percival rabbited on rather a lot for a halfwit, Howl thought uncharitably. There was something odd Ibn Sophie’s voice. She seemed to have forgotten her fury for now, and he was no closer to the cause of it, but he now knew a great deal more about Percival, and his suspicions about Percival seemed to be correct after all.

Percival was still telling his story in those awkward, short sentences. He had gone straight to Mrs Fairfax’s house- which would make sense if he was who Howl thought he was. Then Howl’s ears pricked up as his name was mentioned. _“… Wizard Howl kept visiting to court Lettie. Lettie didn’t want him, and she asked me to bite him to get rid of him, until Howl suddenly began asking about you and-“_

_“What?!”_

_“He said, ‘I know someone called Sophie who looks a little like you.’ And Lettie said ‘That’s my sister.’ Without thinking… And she got terribly worried then, particularly as Howl went on asking about her sister. Lettie said she could have bitten her tongue off.”_

Howl remembered that day well. He had thought they’d left things very cordial indeed. He had explained the situation to Lettie and Mrs Fairfax, and they had trusted him to help Sophie lift the curse.

At least… That was how he remembered it.

_“The day you came there, she was being nice to Howl in order to find out how he knew you. Howl said you were an old woman and Mrs Fairfax said she’s seen you. Lettie cried and cried. She said ‘Something terrible has happened to Sophie! And the worst of it is she’ll think she’s safe from Howl. Sophie’s too kind herself to see how heartless Howl is!’ And she was so upset that I managed to turn into a man long enough to say I’d go and keep an eye on you.”_

And now Sophie knew that her sister knew about her curse. Perhaps she would choose to live with Lettie instead of Fanny.

Mrs Fairfax could help her work on the curse, he supposed, though he had little faith in honey magic on a curse like the one Sophie was still holding onto.

 _“Bother Lettie! It’s very kind of her, and I love her dearly for it. I’ve been quite as worried about her.”_ Howl frowned- was he really so fearsome? He always found girls rather enjoyed falling in love with him. The aftermath was painful for them, perhaps. But he was hardly dangerous. _“But I do not need a watchdog!”_

_“Yes you do. Or you did… I arrived far too late.”_

_“Curse everyone!” Sophie cried. “I’ve done with the lot of you.”_ Her voice lowered to an ominous, angry mutter. _“Too late! What nonsense! How’s not only heartless, he’s impossible! Besides, I am an old woman.”_

Stamp stamp stamp around the garden Sophie went. Howl ran a hand through his hair, eyebrows raised as high as they could go as he processed what it was Sophie was saying.

_“And all the things I told the King are true! Oh, confound that grey and scarlet suit! I refuse to believe that I was the one that got caught with it. Anyway… Howl doesn’t like me!”_

Michael was looking at Howl with a very strange face indeed.

“What have you done to Sophie?” Michael asked quietly. “She seems really upset.” Howl frowned.

“Shush Michael.” Howl said. “I think that scarecrow’s back.” Michael moved to go and help but Howl held on to him. “Wait. Sophie can do it.”

They waited, Howl could feel Michael’s pulse in his wrist and he wondered briefly whether he had one too.

“She did it.” Michael smiled, relived, and the pulse slowed slightly. Howl let go of Michael's wrist and took hold of his own, but there was nothing.

 _“Huh!”_ Footsteps, quick, stamping and determined got closer. With wide eyes, Howl and Michael quickly set about dismantling the spell but froze when the door slammed open.

Sophie's menacing, hunched figure seemed to block out all the light, magic crackled through the air and Howl reached out an arm to Michael. "Keep behind me, Michael."

"Eavesdropper!" Sophie shouted accusingly. "Snooper!" She advanced into the room and Howl stopped himself from taking a step backwards.

"What's wrong?" He asked levelly. "Do you want the shutters black and gold too?"

"You barefaced-" Sophie stuttered and faltered, eyes glassy. "That wasn't the only thing you heard! You- you- How long have you known that I was- I am-?"

"Under a spell?" Howl asked. "Well, now-"

"I told him." Michael said bravely. "My Lettie-"

 _"You!"_ Sophie shrieked, looking devastated.

"The other Lettie let the cat out of the bag too." Howl said, quickly. "You know she did. And Mrs Fairfax talked a great deal that day. There was a time when everyone seemed to be telling me. Even Calcifer did - when I asked him" He shot a look over to Calcifer, who was hiding behind his logs looking as though he very much wished not to be there at all. "But do you honestly think I don't know my own business well enough not to spot a strong spell like that when I see it?"

Howl was mildly offended at that, but he felt somewhat in turmoil and the feeling didn't really take hold- did she think he hadn't seen her at all? He wasn't sure Sophie was hearing him though, she was looking between the three of them wildly as he spoke.

"I had several goes at taking it off you when you weren't looking. But nothing seems to work. I took you to Mrs Pentstemmon, hoping she would do something, but she evidently couldn't."

It clearly hadn't occurred to Sophie that he'd been working hard to help her, even as he was trying to lift his own curse, find Prince Justin and find out what happened to Wizard Suliman. He took a deep breath, ready for her to explode at him, but he had to say it.

"I came to the conclusion that you liked being in disguise."

Calcifer stared at him, and Michael took a panicked gasp of air. Sophie, herself, let her mouth hang agape. "Disguise!" She yelled. Behind her, Percival cowered in the driveway, unwilling to come inside.

Howl laughed. Sophie's grip tightened on her watering can, but Howl paid no heed- he had to drive the message home. "It must be, since you're doing it yourself. What a strange family you are! Is your name really Lettie, too?"

Sophie's face seemed to turn totally white, and Percival chose that moment to edge inside, carrying the half-full bucket of weedkiller. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then; Sophie grabbed the bucket from Percival and threw it directly at Howl.

Howl ducked, and Michael managed to jump out of the way, but the bucket span as it sailed over them, narrowly missing them but sending bubbling, vicious liquid streaking over the ceiling and splashing across the floor. The bucket itself crashed into the sink where all the remaining flowers withered and died immediately.

"Ow!" Calcifer cried, edging away from a small pool of weedkiller in the hearth. "That was strong."

Howl slowly approached the kitchen side slowly and gently fished out the skull from it's hiding place under the flowers. It seemed to have hidden itself there when Sophie was raging, the poor thing.

"Of course it was strong." howl said softly, wiping gently at the skull with his sleeve. "Sophie never does things by halves."  
The skull gleamed white and new where it had been drenched in weedkiller, and Howls' sleeve faded where he'd rubbed it to a bleached pale blue and grey. Sophie, he mused, was rather making a habit of destroying his clothes.

Sophie simply huffed, probably annoyed she hadn't managed to do much real damage to Howl himself, and sat down in front of Calcifer. Howl was overcome by a rather empty feeling. Tomorrow was Midsummer day, and the curse was closing in. He didn't really wish to leave things this way.

"Sophie." He said, pleadingly, and moved to stand at her shoulder. "I did my best. Haven't you noticed that your aches and pains have been better lately? Or do you enjoy having those too?"

Howl waited, but Sophie didn't answer. She seemed determined to part on bad terms and it made Howl feel rather desolate. He turned to Percival. "I'm glad to see that you have some brain after all. You had me worried."

Percival smiled wanly. "I really don't remember very much." He said apologetically, and picked up the guitar, tuning it quickly and plucking the strings in a little sequence Howl recognised- it sounded vaguely like Sosban Fach.

"My sorrow revealed." Howl managed a smile. "I was born an unmusical Welshman. Did you tell Sophie all of it? Or do you really know what the Witch was trying to find out?"

Percival met his eyes. "She wanted to know about Wales."

"i thought that was it." Howl nodded stiffly, his suspicions at least partially confirmed. "Ah, well." Without another word, Howl retreated to the relative peace of the bathroom. He had a big night ahead, and he needed to look his best.

He was repeatedly coming dangerously close to being honest, and it seemed to get worse the more time he spent with Sophie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one this time! Do people prefer longer or shorter chapters?


	13. In Which Howl is Totally Honest

"Calm down a bit on the beer, eh, Howell?" Gavin clapped a hand on Howl's back. "You're only small!" Howl held up a finger at his Lock position friend and finished off the pint. It went down smoothly, and he stood dramatically, holding his hands out to his friends.

"Shots!" He grinned, and Jones, at least, cheered in approval.

" _Yes_ , Howell!" The Rugby Club Reunion was a pleasant diversion. When he'd refreshed his hair dye before leaving he'd tried to ignore that the blond seemed to keep lightening with each application, and that his nearly totally white hair was now undeniably full white and gleaming.

When the lads had made jokes, he'd simply grinned and gotten the first round in, but as the night progressed he was finding it harder and harder to remain standing.

He staggered to the bar, with Dafydd steadying him as he stumbled. "The rest of the lads are in for London next year, are you?”

Howl very much hoped so, and pretended to mishear. “No, we’ll get tequila instead.” He waved the bartender over.

It was about 9, and Howl was keeping up with the larger boys as best he could; he needed as much dutch courage as he could muster and the bravado in the room was bolstering. The reunions were in a state of change, however, and Howl wasn’t entirely sure when his friends had gone from spending their nights checking into hotels with strangers to checking in with their partners and children at home. 

“Look, I love being a dad.” Jones grinned to him when they sat together a little while later. “And I love Jan, but they drive me fucking nuts half the time.” He laughed. Howl nodded loosely.

“Tell me about it, I’ve got this cleaner- housemate, Sophie, and half the time I want to just have a bit of a cwtch, and half the time I think she’s _trying_ to make me as angry as possible.” He scowled and Jones shrugged.

“Women, eh?”

“Well, I suppose she could be viewed as a woman.” Howl slurred. “I rather think she’s a curse.”

Howl did his best to keep an eye out for the Witch’s fire demon, but Miss Angorian was nowhere to be found as far as he could see. She was probably laying low and conserving energy for Midsummer’s Day.

Howl, obviously, was playing something of a waiting game, and who was to tell whether it would pay off.

“I hear you’ve got a new woman Howell.” Dafydd smiled genially, red in the face and beer-breathed.

Howl scoffed. “I do _not_ thank you very much.” He leaned heavily on the table, ignoring the stickiness his elbow landed in. “I have a Sophie.”

An awkward realisation was quietly simmering away inside him, however, and he tried not to dwell on it. The knowledge did no one any good.

When last orders rang, Howl was driven home in a loud taxi full of _Sosban Fach_ and bawdy drinking songs, and dropped off at Megan’s house. “Shhh!” Howl giggled, as he got out of the taxi. “You’ll wake Megan!”

“Shhhh!” His friends giggled back, and began to sing again. Howl foggily hoped that Megan would assume it was a neighbour coming home late, as he stumbled into the castle through Megan’s front door.

He sang along cheerily, as the castle twisted and distorted. He couldn’t seem to find the stairs to him room anymore. He found himself in the back yard, and had to turn back on himself. He staggered back past the broom cupboard and promptly tripped over a waylaid step.

“What’s the matter?” Sophie poked her head out, concern hidden in irritation and her face swimming in a blurry haze.

“Rugby Club Reunion.” Howl managed to slur. “Didn’t know I used to fly up the wing for my university, did you, Mrs Nose?”

Sophie same out a little further, arms crossed haughtily. “If you were trying to fly, you must have forgotten how.” Sophie frowned. 

Howl kept back a chuckle at the misunderstanding. “I was born to strange sights.” He murmured. “Things invisible to see, and I was just on my way to bed when you interrupted me.” He struggled to stand. “I know where all past years are, and who cleft the Devil’s foot.”

“Go to bed, you fool.” Calcifer’s voice grumbled through the castle. “You’re drunk.”

“Who, me?” Howl cried. “I assure you my friends, I am cone sold sober.” He pulled himself upstairs, one hand braced against the wall, and chuckled. “What a lie that was!” He remarked as he walked into the wall. “My shining dishonesty will be the salvation of me.”

He managed to make his way into his room and promptly passed out, fully clothes, atop the bedsheets.

.

_“…owl… HOWL!”_ Calcifer’s echoing cry woke Howl rather rudely from his sleep, and the light streaming in through the window shot daggers into his eyes painfully. _“Howell Jenkins, the Witch has found your sister’s family!”_

Howl crashed downstairs, blindly, and wild eyed. There seemed to be a rather significant audience for him downstairs, and some cries of horror.

“Got me by my weak flank, blast her!” He cried, heading for the door. “I was afraid she would! Thanks, Calcifer!” He shoved a startled Fanny aside and threw himself through the door.

The door to Megan’s house was wide open and he entered silently. He could hear Mari crying, and Megan shouting curses, and he flew through to the garden where the Witch stood with long, flowing red hair.

It gave him a start, but then he saw her face and the shock faded. It wasn’t the girl from May Day.

Mari and Neil were both looking scared and tearful, being shuffled slowly towards the Witch, with Megan behind, shouting and raging and screaming but shuffling forwards all the same. Howl wasted no time and lunged right for the Witch, who made a grab for Mari but, thankfully, she was still too far away to be caught and Howl chased the Witch over the fence and out to the street.

Magic was a little harder in Wales, without Calcifer to help fuel it, but Howl still managed to catch up to the Witch and catch her by the hair. He didn’t quite have the mental presence to conjure a spell but he pulled harshly backward and she slammed against him.

They went down in a tangle of limbs, the Witch shrieking in fury and rolling over, kicking and beating at him.

Something was wrong, though, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. His headache was blinding and he was so, so close to finally getting the Witch. Her neck was under his hands and he was so, so close to finishing her off.

She’d come after Megan and the children, she’d attacked his family, she’d destroyed the lives of so many people and she was smirking even as she coughed and spluttered.

And his fingers passed right through.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

How had he missed the fact he was facing a decoy?

He held his head in his hands, trying to block out the mid-morning sun to little avail. He had to think. Why would she send a decoy?

He’d been so bloody drunk last night, and it had been strange not seeing Miss Angorian, who had been lurking in the background nearly every time he was in Wales recently. Perhaps she was laying low? Waiting for the curse to take hold before she made her move?

What if she was going after his family while he was out here sat in a stupid field?

Howl scrambled to his feet and fled back to the house, where he found Megan hugging both Mari and Neil close. When Howl clambered indelicately over the fence she looked up at him, seeming furious.

“Howell, what on God’s earth was that?” She demanded. Neil straightened away from his mother self consciously but Mari cuddled closer, eyeing Howl suspiciously. “And what are you wearing? You look ridiculous.”

Belatedly, Howl realised he’d not bothered to change clothes while saving their lives.

“Sorry, Megan.” Howl went to run a hand through his hair but his fingers caught on tangles and he felt rather sick, resisting the urge to look at his reflection in Megan’s kitchen window. “There’s something I’m involved with and I’ll try to explain it later.”

Megan narrowed her eyes. “Who was that woman? Where is she now?”

Howl glanced up at the window he shared with Megan and sighed, wondering the same thing. “Megan, where’s Gareth? Is he safe?”

“He’s in Cardiff for a conference.” Megan said. “What do you mean safe?”

“Can you get there?” Howl asked. “Can you check into a hotel for tonight- just tonight.” He said quickly. His original plan had failed, and he needed them somewhere safe while he tried to figure out the Witch’s plan. She was a step ahead of him, and he needed to regroup at the castle.

“Yes, we have the car.” Megan said.

It was testament to how frightening the Witch was that Megan didn’t protest. Nor did she question much when Howl bewitched the car to look like an old van, or when he produced three disguise cloaks for them. “Keep these on until you reach Cardiff service station. And don’t come home until tomorrow.”

He saw them off with a glum wave and stepped back inside the castle.

He was suddenly faced with what seemed to be a whole household of women looking right at him, expectantly. Self consciously, he tried to run a hand through his hair again.

“Hello Hatter ladies.” He smiled. Sophie wasn’t present. She was likely making tea or taking the opportunity to clean his room. The castle certainly seemed to be gleaming, and the Hatter women looked kitted out for work too.

No doubt Sophie had enlisted an army to battle Howl’s poor spiders.

Howl headed over to Calcifer. “The plan failed, old friend. She only pretended to go for my weak flank, and now I’m completely at a loss as to how I can outwit her now, when I have no inkling of her plans.”

“Um.” Calcifer crackled nervously. “I wouldn’t be so sure she hasn’t caught your weak flank after all Howl.”

Howl looked to Calcifer confused.

He looked at the pinched, pale faces around him and realised what he’d thought was expectation was nervous anticipation and fear. “Where’s Sophie?”

“She went to the Witch of the Waste.” Michael said, his voice pitched rather high and tight as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his Lettie. “The scarecrow returned and told us the Witch had captured Miss Angorian, and Sophie went to rescue her for you.”

“Miss Angorian?” Howl asked, confused. “But she’s the Witch’s demon. What on earth would-?”

“She’s _not_ is she?” Michael asked, aghast.

Things fell rather painfully into place, and Howl felt a horrid sinking feeling that caused Calcifer to shout out in warning.

Howl swore.

“Damn that Sophie! Damn her to hell.” He turned the doorknob again. “Fly, Calcifer- speed is of the essence!”

When he arrived at the Witch’s castle there was already a fight happening. The Witch seemed to be battling the scarecrow in a cloud above it, and Howl paused, regarding the situation carefully before lifting his arms and summoned a roll of thunder, tearing at the connection between the Witch and her fire demon.

He could feel their connection, and as he tugged at it, the Witch seemed to crumple and collapse. She was very, very old, and as the last tendrils came away she fell to dust and bones.

Behind him, Sophie freed herself from a cocoon of the Witch’s orange goop and began walking over to a throne, where what looked like the headless body of Prince Justin sat very still. Howl was relieved Sophie was alright, he couldn’t deny that now, and the way she seemed to ignore him was actually rather hurtful.

Resolving to ignore these pains as best he could, Howl watched the scarecrow hop over to the Witch’s skeleton and begin to push the bones around. “No, my friend.” Howl said gently to what he was fairly sure was at least a small part of Wizard Suliman’s magic. “No, you won’t find her heart here. Her fire demon will have got that. I think it’s had the upper hand of her for a long time now.”He sighed, morose. “Sad, really.” He looked over to the headless body, which Sophie had draped her shawl over, carefully. “I think the rest of what you were looking for is over here.” He walked over to Sophie and the body.

Sophie was resolutely ignoring him, it seemed. 

Howl stood beside her and huffed. “Typical! I break my neck to get here, and I find you peacefully tidying up!” He said in a low voice. Sophie turned slowly, taking in his appearance with a sad, critical eye.

Perhaps she might love him as much as he loved her, he thought, not making any attempt to change his appearance or run a hand through his hair. She may as well see his flaws properly.

“I came for Miss Angorian.” She said quietly.

“And I thought if I arranged for your family to visit you, it would keep you quiet for once!” Howl said disgustedly. “But no-!” 

Howl was rather rudely interrupted by the scarecrow, which hopped between them decisively. “I was sent by Wizard Suliman.” It said in its mushy voice. “I was guarding his bushes from the birds in the Waste when the Witch caught him. He cast all of his magic that he could spare on me, and ordered me to come to his rescue. But the Witch had taken him to pieces by then and the pieces were in various places.”

It seemed to be talking only to Sophie, Howl realised, and he felt rather put out.

“It has been a hard task. If you had not come and talked me to life again, I would have failed.”

Howl should have known Sophie was behind the scarecrow in some way. No one else had that much power over things that should rightly stay put.

“So when Prince Justin ordered finding spells, they must have kept pointing to _you…_ Why was that?” Sophie asked.

“To me or to his skull.” The scarecrow nodded- sort of. “Between us, we are the best part of him.”

“And Percival is made up of Wizard Suliman and Prince Justin!” Sophie looked dismayed.

The scarecrow nodded again. “Both parts told me that the Witch and her fire demon were no longer together and I could defeat the Witch on her own. I thank you for giving me ten times my former speed.”

Amused, Howl raised his eyebrows at Sophie. She really was coming into her own as a Witch, and with no tutelage at all. Imagine what she could do with some proper guidance…

But, back to the matter at hand. There was still rather a lot to do, even with the Witch gone. “Bring that body with you to the castle.” Howl said, waving the scarecrow towards the prince’s remains. “I’ll sort you out there. Sophie and I have to get back before that fire demon finds a way of getting inside my defences.” He reached out and went to take Sophie’s hand, but with the height difference was only able to catch her wrist. “Come on. Where are those seven-league boots?”

Sophie hung back. “But Miss Angorian-!”

Howl dragged her towards the largest pile of rubble, hoping the boots would be found near the cloak he could see trapped beneath a wooden beam. “Miss Angorian _is_ the fire demon. If it gets inside the castle, then Calcifer’s had it and so have I!”

Sophie pulled her hand from his and Howl wheeled around to face her, irritated. The look on Sophie’s face made his blood run cold. She had both hands over her mouth and was staring at him, wide eyed and horrified.

“I _knew_ I’d made a mess of it! It’s been in twice already. But she- it went out.”

“Oh, lord!” Howl cried, equally horrified. “Did it touch anything?”

“The guitar.”

“Then it’s still in there.” Howl realised. “Come _on!”_ He regained his hold of Sophie and pulled her to the smashed wall. “Follow us carefully.” He instructed the scarecrow. “I’m going to have to raise a wind! No time to look for those boots.” He said to Sophie as they climbed over the ruined wall. “Just run. And keep running, or I won’t be able to move you.”

Sophie and Howl ran, helped by Howl’s wind and soon they were moving at a good pace.

“It’s not Calcifer’s fault!” Sophie shouted, over the noise of the wind. “I told him not to say!”

“He wouldn’t anyway.” Howl shouted back. “I knew he’d never give away a fellow fire demon. He was always my weakest flank.”“I thought Wales was!”

“No!” Howl shook his head. “I left that deliberately! I knew I’d be angry enough to stop her if she tried anything there. I had to leave her an opening, see? The only chance I had of coming at Price Justin was to use the curse she’d put on me to get near _her_.”

Sophie squinted at him. “So you _were_ going to rescue the Prince! Why did you pretend to run away? To deceive the Witch?”

“Not likely!” Howl laughed bitterly. “I’m a coward. Only way I can do something this frightening is to tell myself I’m _not_ doing it!” The words weighed heavily between them, and Sophie seemed to falter. Howl gripped her even tighter, terrified. “Keep running!” He reminded her urgently. “You’ll get hurt at this speed!”

Sophie gasped, and looked down at her feet, forcing them to move properly. It occurred to Howl that if he was going to die this may be the last opportunity to get a few things off his chest. 

“All my flanks were weak!” He shouted and Sophie looked back up at him, she seemed very concerned about him and he felt rather pleased in spite of the pressing danger they were currently running towards. “I was relying on Suliman being alive. Then when all that seemed to be left of him was Percival, I was so scared I had to go out and get drunk.” He grimaced at her. “And then you go and play right into the Witch’s hands!”

“I’m the eldest!” Sophie cried miserably. “I’m a failure!” Howl had heard this particular bit of Ingary folklore before, and was floored that Sophie had seemed to take it to heart.

“Garbage!” He scoffed. “You just never stop to think!” He slowed, crashing through bushes and swerving with Sophie across a lake, sending spray and rainbows up into the air the midsummer sun. “And you’re too nice.” He scolded gently. “I was relying on you being too jealous to let that demon near the place.”

He didn’t dare look at her then, pulling her in a slow run up the hill and towards the castle to the door.

“Michael!” He shouted, opening the door and guiding Sophie inside.

“It wasn’t me who let her in!” Michael said guiltily. Howl let go of Sophie and immediately went for the guitar which was propped up against the wall, but it exploded before he could reach it and the fire demon appeared, smiling beguilingly next to Calcifer.

Howl froze. “Your Witch is dead.” He said. She was still holding her form without the Witch’s power even as back up. She really was so much older and more powerful than Calcifer.

“Isn’t that too bad!” She said, totally unconcerned. “Now I can make myself a new human who will be much better. The curse is fulfilled.” Howl glanced to Sophie, who was staring at Miss Angorian in stunned, furious silence. “I can lay my hands on your heart now.” 

She reached into the grate and took hold of Howl’s heart, pulling it out with Calcifer still attached looking terrified. 

“Nobody move.” She said warningly.

Calcifer flickered weakly. “Help!” He cried. Miss Angorian peered down at him with a smirk.

“Nobody can help you.” The demon continued. “ _You_ are going to help _me_ control my new human. Let me show you. I only have to tighten my grip-!”

Howl had never felt pain like it. He was vaguely aware of Calcifer screaming terribly loud, so much so that it sounded like two voices crying out in pain.

His vision flashed white, and he felt his legs buckle as blackness engulfed him.

.

The first thing he was aware of was wrenching pain.

He groaned, and the noise echoed loudly around his own head, pulsing and writhing its way around behind his closed eyes. He rolled over onto his front in an attempt to block out the light.

“Hell’s teeth!” He grunted. “I’ve got a hangover!”

“No.” Someone - a young woman - said matter of factly in a way Sophie would approve of. “You hit your head on the floor.”

Sophie.

His chest bloomed with intense dread in a way he’d never felt before. _Sophie_.

“I can’t stay.” He muttered to the blurry woman beside him. “I’ve got to rescue that fool Sophie.”

A hand took hold of his shoulder tightly, stopping him in his tracks and shaking him mercilessly. “I’m here.” She said. “But so is Miss Angorian!” His eyes widened and he felt curiously full to the brim in a way that wasn’t comfortable at all but he had other things to attend to. “Get up and do something about her! Quickly!”

Howl looked to where Miss Angorian seemed to be getting harassed by Michael’s Lettie, the scarecrow and Sophie’s walking stick which was, he noted, on fire.

Wasting no time, Howl stood and reached out to the fire demon, casting a very old, very powerful spell that he’d used in part on the Witch earlier. He felt it take and looked down in grim satisfaction at the small, hardened black heart in his hands.

The fire demon whined wetly, and Howl shook his head. “I’m afraid not. You’ve had your time.” He lifted the heart to it and grimaced. “By the look of this, you were trying to get a new heart too. You were going to take my heart and let Calcifer die, weren’t you?”

He pressed both palms against the Witch’s heart and crushed it to dust, not watching the fire demon crumble as he did so. There was no real satisfaction to be had in doing this to one of Calcifer’s kin, but the risk was too great.

Then the hairs on the back of Howl’s neck and arms prickled, and he felt that very uncomfortably full feeling again. He turned to look at Sophie with his hands by his sides, empty and open.

She was still wearing her grey dress but her hair was long, loose and bright ginger. Her eyes were green and cheeks freckled, and she couldn’t seem to look away from him either.

“Grey doesn’t really suit you.” He said. “I thought that when I first saw you.”

“Calcifer’s gone.” Sophie said quickly. “I had to break your contract.”

Howl nodded, sadly. He was sad to lose his old friend. “We were both hoping you would. Neither of us wanted to end up like the Witch and Miss Angorian. Would you call your hair ginger?”

“Red gold.” Sophie corrected, looking into his eyes with a slightly wondering smile. “Unlike some people’s, it’s natural.”

Howl felt his own smile threatening to take over his whole face. “I’ve never seen why people put such value on things being natural.” He said, taking a step closer to Sophie.

If Howl had had any attention to spare, he would have seen Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman, restored to their own bodies and shaking hands in the doorway. “I’d better get back to my royal brother.” Prince Justin said, and approached a rather stunned Fanny, bowing deeply. “Am I addressing the lady of the house?

“Er- not really.” Fanny managed. “The lady of the house is Sophie.”

“Or will be shortly.” Mrs Fairfax chimed in with a smile.

Howl took Sophie’s hands in his own, unable to keep his grin down as his chest thrummed with new depth he couldn’t remember having even before he’d given up his heart. “I’ve been wondering all along if you would turn out to be that lovely girl I met on May Day. Why were you so scared then?”

Sophie simply beamed back at him, certainly not scared, and certainly very lovely. 

If Howl had been attending, he would have seen Wizard Suliman go up to the other Lettie with a sense of purpose. “It seemed to be the Prince’s memory I had of you and not my own at all.” He said with a distinctive Welsh lilt.

“That’s quite alright.” Lettie said, looking up at him. “It was a mistake.”

“But it wasn’t!” Protested Wizard Suliman. “Would you let me take you on as a pupil at least?”

Howl could still see the echoes of the old woman in her face, but more in the structure, and in the sharpness of her gaze. Sophie maybe hadn’t changed much at all with the lifting of the curse, and he was very glad of it indeed.

If Howl had been paying any attention at all, he would have noticed Michael looking mightily confused as he held his Lettie’s hand. “I shall have to get used to using your real name, Martha. But why didn’t you tell me before?”

The blonde girl twiddled her thumbs nervously. “Well, Lettie never told me that her disguise had been found out, and I was worried in case you wouldn’t like me as much if I lifted the spell too quickly.”

“Martha.” Michael said very sincerely. “You’re the most wonderful person I have ever met.” And then he turned bright red and couldn’t seem to get out another word.

But Howl had no attention to spare at all.

“I think we should live happily ever after.” He grinned down at Sophie. “It should be hair-raising.”

“And you’ll exploit me.” Sophie grinned back.

“And then you’ll cut up all my suits to teach me.” Said Howl.

So Sophie and Howl held hands and grinned at each other, blissfully unaware that the crowd in the castle were now nearly all trying to speak to one or the other of them in the wake of Miss Angorian’s demise.

Fanny, Martha and Lettie were all trying to catch Sophie’s attention and tugging gently on her dress, as Prince Justin, Wizard Suliman and Mrs Fairfax all tried to speak with Howl.

“That was the neatest use of word of power I ever saw from anyone.” Mrs Fairfax said. “I wouldn’t have known what to do with that creature. As I often say…”

“Sophie.” Said Lettie. “I need your advice.”

“Wizard Howl.” Said Wizard Suliman. “I must apologise for trying to bite you so often. In the normal way, I wouldn’t dream of setting teeth in a fellow countryman.”

“Sophie, I think this gentleman is a prince.” Said Fanny.

“Sophie.” Said Martha. “The spell’s off you! Did you hear?”

But Sophie and Howl were holding one another’s hands and smiling and smiling and quite unable to stop.

“Don’t bother me now.” Howl grinned. “I only did it for the money.”

“Liar.” Sophie beamed.

“I said…” Michael shouted. “That _Calcifer’s come back!”_

That did get Howl’s attention, and Sophie’s too. They looked to the grate where, sure enough, old blueface was flickering amongst the logs.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Howl said, beaming even wider, though he wouldn’t have believed it possible.

“I don’t mind.” Calcifer said nonchalantly. “As long as I can come and go.” He peered up at Howl with smirking blue eyes. “Besides, it’s raining out there in Market Chipping.”

Howl briefly despaired at the effect the humidity would have on his hair, before realising with slow horror that he hadn’t been through the bathroom at all that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! I couldn't resist the last line.
> 
> I will likely post a short epilogue, as a one shot, so please bear with me for that as I'm not ready to totally let go yet! (And, I think, it's entirely reasonable to add to the end of the book since I missed the start of it.)


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